


Drowning in Delphinium

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Series: Drowning in Delphinium [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Symptoms, Denial of Feelings, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Hiding Medical Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Just one and it's briefly mentioned, Light Romance, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Respiratory Illness, Secret Crush, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Slightly Helpful Ardyn, Terminal Illnesses, awkward boner, kind of, too much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: Ignis' hidden feelings for Prompto may hurt more than just his heart when he develops a rare condition. The cure: confessing his affections to Prompto in hopes that his feelings are returned. Unfortunately, such a thing is easier said than done for Ignis. Unfortunately, failure could cost him his life.





	1. Prologue: Breathe In

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard about this fictional illness called Hanahaki Disease and it greatly intrigued me. And then this idea for a Promnis fic popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. Because hell yeah Promnis. I plan to make this a few chapters long. We'll see how it goes. I'll try to drop an update every week. I've never written romance before, and it is not, not, NOT my genre. But anything for Promnis, I guess. Just bear with me?

 

The first time it happened, Ignis convinced himself that he was seeing things. It was the only explanation. Perhaps exhaustion? A smudge on his glasses? An incredibly unlikely, yet nonetheless  _ possible _ coincidence? It had to be. To believe what he saw… it was far too absurd.

And then, a few days later, it happened again.

Ignis coughed, shoulders bunching as he pressed a hand against his mouth to muffle the sound. He’d rather not have his companions notice and fret over a simple cold. Especially when most of his tended to pass within a day or two. As he removed his hand, something out of place caught his eye. Ignis stared at his palm, a tiny light blue petal resting against the grey leather of his glove. Paper-thin and fragile against the worn material, it looked ghostly in the dull yellowy lighting of the outpost. His throat still itched terribly, but he fought down the urge to cough.

“Gonna’ stay out there all night?”

Ignis jumped, whirling to see Gladio poke his head out of the caravan door. He wrapped his fingers around the petal, concealing it from view.

“I’ll… be but a minute” he responded, keeping his voice level and cool.

“It’ll be a long drive to Lestallum. Get some rest, Iggy. Can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Rest assured, Gladio,” Ignis sighed.

Seemingly satisfied, Gladio ducked back into the caravan. The sounds of Noctis and Prompto bickering over sleeping arrangements drifted out from the open door. 

Alone once again, Ignis fished a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and carefully folded the tiny petal within.  _ Probably just some status ailment from those endless hunts, _ he thought. He would look into this later, when he had a moment. A Remedy would do, for now. Ignis swallowed against the itch in his throat and walked into the caravan to join his companions.


	2. Drowning in Your Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take another chapter. I feel bad that the prologue was just a snippet. More sometime next week, after I get this thing more planned out. Sorry about wierd chapter numbering stuff because of the prologue; I'm a bit new to this. For now, hope you like!  
> Also, I'm constructing a playlist for this, because I love music too much. The theme for this chapter is: "I'm Your Moon", by Jonathan Coulton. Give it a listen. It's cute.

Chapter 2: Drowning in Your Company

 

“Hey! Look at this! It’s like… an emaciated potato, or something?”

Ignis smiled as he strolled through the tightly packed Lestallum marketplace. Never a dull moment with Prompto at his side. Never a grocery trip that didn’t turn into an adventure in one way or another.

“But really. What the heck is this thing?” Prompto turned the knobbly root over in his hands. He gave it a tentative poke, as if afraid it would bite him.

Ignis leaned over his shoulder, barely brushing against the gunner’s back. He adjusted his glasses out of habit, taking a closer look at whatever Prompto held.

“Ah. That would be ginger root,” he said. He took a step back, suddenly aware of how close he stood to Prompto. Heat flushed through him, though whether from his close proximity to the blonde, or from the simmering Lestallum heat, he couldn’t tell.

“Oh. So ginger powder comes from this?” Prompto squinted at the root with an expression of exaggerated disgust. “Looks kinda gross.” He put the ginger back in a basket full of other different sized roots and wiped his hands off on his pants.

Ignis chuckled, scanning over the rest of the herbs and spices displayed in neat little rows. Roots and powders and dried leaves in a multitude of earthy shades. He took in a breath, reveling in the layers of scents drifting from the stall. The deep aroma of spices wove among those of sizzling meats from a nearby food vendor. It reminded him of cooking back in the kitchens at the Citadel, spending his precious free time learning and experimenting.

“Looks can be deceiving. Especially in the culinary world. The most distasteful exteriors can conceal rather tantalizing flavors.”

“Huh. I’ll just take your word for it,’ Prompto grunted. His interest must have drifted, because when Ignis glanced over, Prompto was roaming elsewhere. Ignis remained behind, watching him flit from stall to stall with bouncing steps, stopping to prod and examine various goods and trinkets. Sometimes, he leaned over to bring his eyes level with an object of interest, seeking a different angle of view. He never lingered at any one place for too long, like a hummingbird sampling from a vast garden. The Lestallum marketplace was a vast garden for the senses, indeed.

A fond smile curled on Ignis’ lips as he watched Prompto’s upswept hair bob through the crowd, the shorter man’s frame easily swallowed by the rest of the crowd. The gunner possessed a zest for life and a desire to learn, a lack of bashfulness in seeking answers by asking questions. A trait Ignis so rarely encountered in others.

Prompto’s observations proved quite refreshing; heartfelt and unashamed, often with an amusing flair that could only be his. Exposed to enough of Prompto’s commentary, Ignis found himself looking at the world from different angles, as well. Life felt all the richer for it. If Ignis were truly “miserably stuffy”, as Gladio and Noct liked to put it, then Prompto was his breath of fresh air.

“Iggy! Come look what I found!” Prompto’s yell sounded above the background noise. Ignis’ sharp gaze scanned among the stalls until he spotted the man, waving his arms above his head.

Locked onto his location, Ignis began to weave among the crowd, skirting stalls and side-stepping customers. He squeezed past an elderly woman comparing apples at a fruit stand, uttering a polite “pardon me”. When he turned his head back to Prompto, only a short distance off, his steps faltered.

For a moment, Ignis couldn’t breathe. As if his throat had closed. As if his lungs simply refused to expand. A hand flew to his neck. What was this? Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to inhale. Then, fear set in, followed by that terrible itching tightness in his throat. Ignis strained, drawing in only a tiny gasp of air and releasing it in a deep cough. Something fluttered past his lips.

He coughed again and again, covering his mouth so as not distress those around him. Luckily, those nearby shifted away, granting him some space. After what seemed far too long, the fit subsided, leaving Ignis gasping, never more thankful for something so simple as air.

He straightened slowly, standing motionless among the shifting mass of people as he scraped his composure back into place. Mostly. His still chest heaved. He kept his fist clenched at his side, dread settling over him. He knew what rested in his palm.

Ignis shivered as the sun beat down over him, baking the dusty ground beneath his feet. A shaking hand plunged into his pocket, stuffing the small handful of cursed petals away. He’d deal with them later. Dispose of them when convenient. Though just mere flower petals, they’d… they’d come from _inside_ of him. Coughed up from… from his lungs? It felt wrong, disgusting even, to simply let them fall to the ground. Like discarding a used tissue onto the floor.

It hadn’t gone away. A full week, and the strange status ailment had failed to wear off.

If anything, it had become worse. At first, he’d found only a single petal, suffered only the stray cough here and there. Then his cough worsened, and one petal become two, three. He had yet to tell the others. They thought his respiratory issues to be mere sensitivity to the change in humidity. Because that’s all that he’d told them. And of course, they believed him. Why wouldn’t they? They always believed him, trusted in him. It only made him feel worse for lying.

With a deep breath that sent pangs through his chest and shoulders, Ignis straightened his posture and made his way through the crowd once more. Prompto was waiting, would worry if he took too long. And from what he could detect, the fit had passed.    

By the time he saw Prompto, his heart had almost resumed its normal rate. Ignis glanced away from concerned blue eyes. It wouldn't do to worry the others when they already had so much weighing on their minds. Especially if this turned out to be nothing more than a strange, persistent status ailment. He would conceal this. At least until he could locate more information. So far, the internet rewarded him no success, but Lestallum hosted a rather impressive library. Perhaps answers could be found…

Ignis stopped in front of Prompto, his mind buzzing restless behind a calm facade. Blue eyes lit up at his arrival, freckles crinkling above a smile. Ignis breathed in slowly. He dearly hoped that this… this _issue_ , wasn’t contagious.

“Thought you got lost for a second,” Prompto chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coeurl print jeans. “These crowds are total madness!”

“Indeed,” Ignis sighed. He wanted to say more, but had to stop to clear his scratchy throat. He bit back another cough, not wanting to worry Prompto. “Now, what was it that you wanted me to see?” He cast his eyes over the assorted wares of the stall, wondering if he could spot whatever had caught the gunner’s interest before Prompto told him.

“Didn’t Talcott want one of these?” Prompto asked, holding up a tiny statue of a cactuar, skillfully carved in a dark wood of some sort.

“Well spotted, Prompto,” Ignis hummed, turning the little figurine over in his hands. As pesky as the little creatures could be, they did have their own charm. When his eyes flicked back to Prompto, he saw the young man grinning with pride, his freckles glowing in the harsh sunlight. The Advisor swallowed, turning quickly to the keeper of the stall before he could stare too long and embarrass himself. And more than likely, Prompto, as well.

With a negligible amount of gil handed over and the gift stowed away safe in a small paper bag, the two continued their shopping. Prompto walked along next to Ignis with light steps, humming a little tune that broke off every time something caught his eye. Which was often. Blue eyes darted around, trying to take in everything. A dizzying challenge.

A camera materialized to capture the sun glowing off of a basket of vibrantly-colored fruits. A small bird snatching seed from a burlap sack as the stall keeper waited on a customer. The multitude of earthy-hued spices they’d passed earlier, lovingly organized on their wide table. A quick surprise shot of Ignis as he smiled warmly at Prompto’s antics. Another immediately after, capturing the pink flush across his cheeks, his brows pulled up and mouth slightly open.

“You are not permitted to keep that one,” Ignis huffed fixing Prompto with a stern stare.

Prompto clutched the camera protectively against his chest as he skipped a few steps out of reach with a mischievous smile. He narrowly avoided bumping into a stall.

“But it’s a good one!” he protested, bringing the photo back up on the  display screen. One eyebrow lifted as he appraised the photo. “Yeah, I like this one a lot. _Definitely_ saving it!” he nodded, eyes flicking back to Ignis to see the man’s reaction.

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed it would be pointless to argue. Prompto never deleted a photo unless he truly wanted. No amount of asking or begging or threatening could persuade the young man.

“How do you always look so photogenic?” Prompto asked, dismissing his camera in a flash of crystalline light. “Like, is that something they trained you for in the Citadel? Why didn’t I ever get training?”

Ignis chuckled at the thought, allowing the photo issue to slide. It wasn’t as if a photo of him blushing was much to fret about. Not like that certain picture taken after an hour of pouring rain had flattened his hair into a bushy mess. _That_ particular photo demanded to be burned.

“Indeed. Years and years of the most brutal of lessons. One must always look their best when they attend to royalty,” Ignis responded.

“Ha-ha,” Prompto mumbled, rolling his eyes. “I was just kidding. It’s obvious you were just born lucky…”

Ignis caught the downward swing of Prompto’s words, sharp eyes noticed the slight drop in his shoulders.

“Well, some of us must make up for our absence of dazzling smiles and charming freckles.”

Prompto’s mouth dropped open, speechless as he stared up at Ignis.

 _Fool!_ Ignis wanted to slap himself. Slap himself until he saw sense, and then several more times for good measure. Until he relearned how to stop and _think_ before speaking. The last thing that he needed, the absolute _last thing_ , was to broadcast these thoughts.

It was the last thing that _any_ of them needed with the events at hand. They were in the middle of a war. On the run from the Empire. Their home destroyed. And here was Ignis Scientia, Royal Advisor to the Prince of Lucis, _flirting_.

Prompto stuttered, a rosy blush blooming wild across those lovely freckles. “Wh-huh? I- um...They’re not…” a gloved hand rose to cover his nose, eyes swinging downward under thick lashes.

Ignis squeezed his own eyes shut. His hands felt unbearably hot in his own gloves. He made no move to discard them. He deserved every ounce of this cursed embarrassment.

“My-my apologies…” he mumbled. “That was inappro-”

A fit of coughing wracked his body before he could complete the sentence. Again, his throat felt as if it closed. A miserable ache shot through his shoulders, forcing him to double over.

“Woah! Hey there! You okay, Iggy?” Prompto yelled, hands fluttering uselessly as he watched his friend gag and choke.

Ignis managed to nod, even as panic flooded through him, aggravating his fit. The leather of his glove pressed hard against his lips as he tried to conceal his unexplainable oddity. Tried to conceal the bloody fact that he was coughing up _flower petals_ . Prompto couldn’t see this. Ignis couldn’t let him. He’d worry. He’d tell Noctis. They’d chain him to a bed and force him to rest for days on end, wasting time and money when they _needed_ to aid Noctis in gathering power to reclaim his throne. They could even… they could go so far as to leave him behind…

No.

He would handle this on his own. Later in the afternoon, he’d go to the library at the edge of the city and see what he could unearth.

As he regained his breath, he felt Prompto’s hands rub soothing circles over his shoulder blades. Ignis closed his eyes. How he wanted to just melt into those warm hands. Those two fits today, in such close succession… they’d left him exhausted…

“Maybe… maybe we should head back, yeah?” Prompto asked, gazing at Ignis with bare concern. “We can always grab some fast food. ‘M sure Gladio won’t pass up an opportunity to clean out that Cup Noodle truck we passed, earlier.”

“I’m fine, Prompto,” Ignis managed, voice rasping. He slipped his hand into his pocket, depositing the petals with the ones from earlier with a quick, casual movement. “Just inhaled a bit of spice, is all.” He straightened back up, fixing Prompto with a confident nod before striding forward. He needed to show Prompto that he was fine. Just a dry throat. That was all.

The gunner gave him a look of pure skepticism before tagging along next to him, hovering a little closer than usual. The energetic scampering about and constant distraction disappeared in favor of keeping pace with Ignis. Every so often, Ignis noticed Prompto’s gaze shifting in his direction.

“What do you fancy for dinner, tonight?” Ignis asked, dearly wishing to shift his attention.

Prompto bit his lip, considering. “Hmmm… How about… Oh! Can you make some of that breaded Anak cutlet with tomato?”

Ignis furrowed his brow. “It would be a waste to settle for something so simple with so many ingredients at our disposal.” He gestured to the endless rows of stalls flaunting exotic ingredients. “Are you sure?”

Prompto scuffed a boot on the dusty bricks, looking nervous. “Um… Y-yeah! I really like that one! I know it’s easy but… That’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?” Blue eyes peeked sideways at Ignis.

“It is,” Ignis hummed. Something easy to make, and something that he had a fondness for. Despite Ignis’ efforts, Prompto was worrying. The Advisor let out a quiet sigh as he steered himself to a stall selling freshly butchered meats. The damage was already done. Arguing would only cause the sensitive young man more distress. Anak cutlets, it was, then.

As they left the marketplace to stow their ingredients at the hotel, each carrying a large brown paper bag, Ignis glanced toward Prompto. The talkative blonde hadn’t spoken since they’d purchased their ingredients.

“You know, I believe there’s half of a Leiden Pepper left in the fridge. If you like, I could add it to the tomato sauce on your cutlet.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re seriously the best?” Prompto chirped, elbowing Ignis.

Ignis hummed in amusement, his pleasant expression hiding how the compliment made his heart absolutely _sing_.  


	3. Drowning in Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis goes to the library, and Prompto gets some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some trouble with this chapter (this story keeps wanting to get bigger), but I worked it out. I'm getting a little more comfortable with this whole writing fanfiction thing, so... hooray?  
> Anyway, the song for this chapter is "To a Forest" by They Might Be Giants

Chapter 3: Drowning in Ignorance

 

    Prompto watched Ignis climb the short set of stairs to the Lestallum Public Library, his long legs eating up the distance from one step to the next. Feeling his face heat up, Prompto tore his eyes away to focus on the library, instead. A large stone building with a flat front. Big, but boring. It boasted none of the architectural aesthetics that Prompto expected from libraries. Bummer.

He lowered his camera under a wave of disappointment, not bothering to snap a picture of the boring building. Maybe he was just spoiled by the gorgeous marble pillars and sleek, modern design of Insomnia’s library. Another wave of disappointment hit when he realized that the beautiful building had probably been razed to the ground. Along with all those poor books…

    Prompto shook his head, clearing his thoughts just in time to see Ignis disappear through the entrance, glass doors swinging shut behind him. With a soft hum,  Prompto turned away, a little thankful that Ignis hadn't noticed him and Noctis.

After dropping off their load of groceries, Ignis mentioned going to the library to research a few things. Prompto didn't press for details, despite his curiosity. Nor did he ask to tag along. A certain look rested in the strict set of Ignis’ face, the one that meant long hours digging through heavy text with a single-minded drive, of grumbling and growling at any small interruption that threatened to steal his concentration. Best not to bother Iggy when he was in the zone.

That, and Prompto always had trouble with libraries and their whole “be quiet” rule.

So, he'd opted to roam the city with Noctis, instead. Not like he had much else to do until dinner time. Besides, he really didn’t want Noct out alone if one of his vision-triggered headaches happened, again. As much as they all wanted a better idea of what Noctis was seeing, Prompto dreaded the onset of those visions. Standing there, useless while his best friend cringed in splitting agony? He hated it.

Prompto glanced at the library again. It had been pure coincidence that he'd walked past as Ignis entered. The whole layout of the city, much less the location of the library, left Prompto completely confused. Lestallum proved pretty small, compared to Insomnia. But every street and alley was crammed to the brim. He still managed to get lost just venturing a few feet from their hotel. Not that getting lost really bothered him. Every time he wandered, he ended up finding something new: a shop selling weird trinkets, or a stall with exotic food, or a hidden alleyway.

“Hey, you just going to stand there all day?” Noctis’ bored voice made Prompto jump. He gave his friend an awkward smile, hoping to hide the flush on his cheeks.

“We can always go in if you want to read that bad,” Noctis continued. The raised eyebrow told Prompto exactly what the Prince knew of his reading habits.

“Nah. I'd probably lose all my books, or they'd get eaten by something,” Prompto replied. “Really don't wanna worry about fines.”

“True. You can barely remember to put your phone on the charger before bed.”

“ _Not_ true!” Prompto squawked, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. “I charge my phone every night!”

Noctis gave him an amused look. “Only because Specs reminds you.”

“Yeah, well… he just brings it up before I have a chance.” Prompto tagged along after Noctis as he started to wander off.

They walked in silence for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling little city. To be honest, Prompto felt a little overwhelmed by all of the sensory input. Even after a few days, Lestallum still felt completely unfamiliar. More than once, he found himself pulling out his camera to snap a picture of one thing, only to be distracted by another before actually clicking the shutter.

It took him a moment to recognize the spacious street leading to the Exineris Powerplant, but Prompto felt a little proud of himself. The shutter of his camera clicked every few seconds as he snapped a few photos, his attention completely occupied as he sought out different angles and experimented with his filters. He only paused once he heard Noctis talking.

“You know… you and Specs have got a lot closer.”

Prompto nearly stumbled, his heart jumping into his throat at the random comment. It was a wonder he managed to respond.

“Haha… well, you know… being stuck in a car, and then a tent, and then a hotel 24/7 really brings you together,” Prompto said with a chuckle. He flashed a carefree smile as his fingers clenched tight around his camera.

Noctis strolled forward to rest his arms against the railing that bordered the area, looking out over the Powerplant. “You were terrified of him when you two first met. Would barely talk to him for about a month.”

Prompto stopped next to Noctis, draping his own arms over the railing in a lazy slump. The metal felt hot after sitting in the sun, but not enough to persuade him to move. The toe of his boot tapped out a nervous rhythm against the ground as he remembered his first few encounters with Ignis. Six, it felt like a different lifetime. Remembering how he and Iggy had been, back then… they seemed like completely different people.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Prompto finally admitted, shrugging. “Iggy’s cool and all, but… he can be crazy intense. ‘Til you get to know him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Noctis nodded, considering. “I must have got used to it growing up with him.” A moment of silence, then Noctis turned to face Prompto, eyes narrowed in thought.

The blond fidgeted. Noctis’ dark blue eyes looked almost as intense as his Advisor’s. It was more than a little unsettling. Did Ignis secretly teach Noct how to do that?

“Dude. Why are you staring?” Prompto finally asked. “Is there a bug on me? Please, don’t say there’s a bug on me!” He twisted his head to look over his shoulder and down his back, earning a laugh from Noctis.

“Relax, Prom. I was just thinking…” Noctis broke his gaze away to stare off into the hazy distance. “I’m glad that you and Specs are friends. He’s… he’s been different since this trip started.”

Prompto eased himself back against the rail, though with a less slouched posture. He tilted his head at Noctis, a silent urge to explain his meaning. Because, gods, did he want to know what Noctis meant by that.

“I don’t know,” Noctis ran a hand through his hair as he struggled to explain. “It’s just… I expected all of this to be, like, really rough on him. Losing his home, his routine... everything familiar… You know he gets when things get thrown off.” Noctis paused, letting out a sigh.

Prompto felt his heart twist for both of them. Though the often grumpy Prince didn’t always show it, Prompto knew how much he cared for Ignis. They’d been together since childhood, growing up as more than just Prince and Advisor. Ignis was like a brother to Noctis. And Prompto held zero doubts on Ignis’ own adoration of Noctis.

“But he seems pretty happy, lately, all things considered.” Noctis looked at Prompto once again, and the blond felt pinned by his gaze.

“Um…”

“I think it’s because of you.”

Prompto gawked. He sent out a silent prayer to Shiva to ice his arteries, because all of his blood was definitely rushing to his face. Because why not broadcast his embarrassment to everyone, all the time?

“A-are you serious!?” he managed to stutter. He shook his head, biting his lip. “Pretty sure I annoy the guy more than anything.”

“Hey, you can think what you want, but… Iggy smiles a lot more, now. You make him laugh, too. It’s nice. Seeing him loosen up a little.” Noctis rested his arm around Prompto’s shoulders in his own sign of gratitude. “He needs it. We all need it, right now. I’m… I’m really glad you came along.” The tiniest hint of a squeeze, accompanied Noctis’ words. “If you hadn’t… if you’d stayed back home… you would have…” Noctis trailed off with a shake of his head, not wanting to finish the idea.

Prompto stood with his mouth hanging open, sure he would collapse under Noctis’ arm. Making someone laugh? It wasn’t _that_ useful to the group. Noctis shouldn’t be thanking _him._

“I-I should be thanking you… for inviting me,” Prompto whispered, staring at his hands. “You didn’t have to bring me along.”

Noctis gave him a rough pat, a nod of mischief creeping into his voice. “Nope. You’re right. I didn’t have to.” He raised a hand to rub his knuckles through Prompto’s hair, earning an annoyed grunt. “I wanted to. Wouldn’t be the same without my best friend by my side. I’d die of boredom between Specs and Gladio.”

“Aww, Noct… I'm flattered,” Prompto giggled. Though he outwardly laughed off the Prince’s comment, Prompto’s eyes grew watery at Noctis’ sincerity. He turned his head, pretending to study a pile of old trash until the heat behind his eyes dissolved. The last thing he wanted was to melt into an emotional mess all over Noct. No, thanks.

They stood quietly, enjoying the whisper of a breeze drifting in from the open land beyond the Exineris power plant. While Noctis remained still, expression relaxed and a little drowsy, Prompto tapped his hands against the railing, eyes roaming as his thoughts buzzed. A memory of a photo, of Ignis laughing, of some irreversible change, swept through his mind. It froze everything else in its path.

It weighed on his mind. Ever since that day... From before they left Insomnia. He thought… _hoped_ that it would eventually go away. It didn’t. Something he was dying to ask his best friend about, but couldn’t.

For lack of the right words.

For lack of the right time.

For lack of courage.

But Noctis’ praise… it made him feel brave. Prompto drew in a deep breath and nudged Noctis’ shoulder before he could stop himself.

“Hm?”

Prompto hesitated under Noctis’ attention. _No turning back now,_ he vowed.

“So… I kinda have this thing I've been thinking about?” Prompto trailed off, waiting for acknowledgement. Or, maybe he was just stalling.

“Yeah? Like… what sorta thing?” Noctis prompted.

“Well...” Prompto picked at a loose thread on his gloves, an excuse to keep his eyes averted. A distraction for his twitchy hands. “Have you ever wanted something? Like, wanted it _really_ bad? But you're afraid to go for it, because you're scared you'll mess it up, or it won't work out, or… that you’re just not… I don’t know. Not _good_ enough?”

Noctis didn’t answer right away. Just looked at Prompto with something sad drifting through the depths of his eyes. His lips barely lifted into an understanding smile.        “Is this about being a professional photographer?”

    A startled bark of a laugh followed the question, Prompto’s brows shooting up. _Photography?_ No, this wasn’t about photography. This was…

    This was about…

    “Yeah,” he sighed, casting his eyes downward. His shoulders followed. “Silly, huh?”

    Noctis’ smile fell back down. “No. Prom, that’s been your dream for as long as Ive known you. I know, a lot’s changed. And it’s… it’s scary. For all of us. And we don’t know what’s going to happen, tomorrow, or the day after. But don’t give up on what you want.” Noctis pounded his fist against the rail, as if he could beat back his friend’s insecurities. “Don’t let your fear hold you back. Because you’re a lot more awesome than you give yourself credit for, and I’m not the only one who sees it, Prompto.”

    Prompto’s fingers shook, letting him know just how tight he was grasping the railing. Like he might float away without an anchor.

No, this wasn’t about photography. But Noctis’ words… If Noctis believed in him, then maybe…?  

With a deep breath, Prompto pushed away from the railing, dusting his sweaty palms off on his pants. He flashed a reckless grin at his friend, feeling a little lighter. Still nervous, but a little more confident. Yeah. Why not give it a shot? Tonight, he would talk to Iggy. Tell him how he felt. He might as well try, right?

    “All right, Noct. Your kind words have convinced me. How shall I thank my heroic Prince?” Prompto gave an exaggerated bow that had Noctis rolling his eyes. The Prince aimed a light swat at Prompto’s hair.

    “Let me share a bed with Gladio, tonight,” Noctis grumbled. “You keep stealing all the blankets. And kicking me. And if you try to climb on top of me one more time, I swear, Prom, I will throw you over the side.”

    Holding his hands up to protect himself, Prompto took a step back. “Okay, okay! Sheesh. Didn’t know I was _that_ bad.” His laughter almost cut off when he realized the implications of Noctis’ request. If Gladio shared a bed with Noct, that meant…

    “You won’t stay off me, Iggy mumbles and snores.” Noctis shook his head, oblivious to Prompto’s troubled expression. “Gladio is the only one who sleeps like a normal person!”

    Prompto bit his lip at the mention of Noctis’ Advisor. It wasn’t the threat of snoring that gave him nerves… “Um… you sure Iggy’ll be okay with that? Doesn’t he like to be close so he can, um, protect you, and stuff?” Prompto mumbled, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.

    Noctis started to walk off, evidently bored with the scenery. “Gladio’s a big guy. He’ll keep me safe. And Iggy’ll be a few feet away. He can deal with it.” Noctis rubbed a hand over his brow, giving a small grimace. “Headaches are making it hard to sleep.”

    Guilt flooded through Prompto. He should have realized. “Sorry, dude. For keeping you awake. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Gladio could probably use a break from me, too. And you know how heavy I sleep. Snoring won't bother me at all.” Prompto shoved his hands into his pockets, plastering a smile on his face. He followed after Noctis, trying not to think too much about the sleeping arrangements.

    “So. Where to, now?” he asked, jogging until he caught up.

    Noctis smiled into the sun as it peeked between the buildings. “Thought we could visit that guy who liked your photos. Get you started on that _thing you really wanted_?” He elbowed Prompto in the ribs, throwing the startled blond off balance.

    Prompto swallowed hard. Depending on how the night went, he just might.

 

    Early in the evening, Ignis finally returned to the hotel. Prompto’s stomach had been growling for the past half hour, but his hunger pangs fled to the back of his mind as Ignis pushed the door shut behind him. Hard. The resulting bang made Prompto jump, anxiety sparking to attention.

    “‘Bout time,” Noctis called from where he lay sprawled on the hotel bed, poking at his phone with a bored expression. If Ignis’ entrance fazed him at all, he didn’t show it.

    While the Prince failed to see Ignis’ glare, Prompto didn’t. He also didn’t fail to notice the tired, blurry look in those normally sharp green eyes, the set of tense shoulders under purple fabric. Prompto didn’t know what Ignis wanted from the library, but judging by his appearance and attitude, the Advisor hadn’t found it.

    Prompto jumped up from the worn out armchair he’d been lounging in and took a few steps toward the cramped kitchen. “Need any help?” he asked, trying to smile for Ignis’ benefit.

    The bespectacled brunet simply shook his head, dismissing Prompto’s offer with a brisk tone. “Not necessary, thank you.”

Prompto tried not to look too defeated. They’d had so much fun at the marketplace, earlier today… hadn’t they? Or… was he right? Did he actually annoy Ignis more than the man let on? Maybe… maybe he shouldn't tell Ignis. At least, maybe not tonight. He looked distracted enough without having to worry about Prompto’s feelings.

“No problem. That’s cool. Just… give me a holler if you change your mind,” Prompto replied, managing to sound cheerful. Not knowing what else to do with himself, he slunk back to the armchair and persuaded Noctis into a few rounds of King’s Knight.

As he played, Ignis cooked, the kitchen mostly silent save for the background noises of chopping and stirring. Ignis cleared his throat. A few minutes later, the sound came again. Then, a third time. The man began to cough, as well, tearing Prompto’s attention from his game. Every time he glanced up, though, Ignis seemed fine. Flustered, for whatever reason, but fine.

Prompto let out an uneasy little hum and tried his best to distract himself. Probably just leftover nerves from his talk with Noctis mixed with nerves from Iggy’s mood… Yeah, once he thought about it, it made sense for him to feel a little paranoid. Besides, Iggy warned them, already. Just a little sensitivity. Prompto really couldn’t blame him. After all of that dust back at Hammerhead, it was a miracle they weren’t all hacking their lungs out.

Muffled coughing, followed by a short, heated growl had Prompto turning in his seat. The old chair let out a protesting groan, as if scolding the blond for worrying, again.Out in the tiny kitchen, Ignis knelt on the tiled floor, wiping up a splatter of egg with tightly pursed lips and even tighter brows. Prompto turned back to his phone before Ignis noticed him watching. A few minutes passed, and he managed to relax a little, when Ignis let out a low swear.

Prompto didn’t know what happened, didn't even turn to look. Automatically, he rose from his chair and took a step toward the kitchen, ready to help.

“Prom!” A quiet hiss from Noctis made the blonde hesitate. Noctis shook his head slowly, his solemn gaze locked with Prompto’s. As if going into the kitchen meant certain death.

With a final glance out toward the kitchen, where Ignis continued to cook and cough and cuss, Prompto sat down. His leg twitched in an uneasy rhythm. Unable to concentrate on King’s Knight, Prompto closed the game and fiddled with his camera, instead. He flipped through yesterday’s photos, not really looking at them as they shuffled across the display screen. Until he came across a picture from back at Hammerhead. Ignis, vaulting effortlessly with his lance stabbed into the dusty ground, his lean body arching in a graceful flip.

Prompto paused. He _loved_ this picture. And not just because of the lighting, or the angle. No, he loved it because he'd captured a moment of Ignis looking totally _amazing_. A moment that was now his to keep.

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his conversation with Noctis. The thing he wanted… He should… he should just talk to Ignis and get it over with. Get it off his mind. He knew he’d be rejected, so there really wasn't any reason to be afraid, right?

An annoyed grumble drifted from the kitchen, and Prompto chewed his lip sore. Later. He would tell Ignis later. He _would_. Just… now didn't seem the best time to bother Ignis over stupid stuff. Prompto slumped further into his chair and continued to scroll through his photos.

By the time Gladio joined the rest of the group, Ignis was nearly finished. The Advisor drizzled herb-speckled tomato sauce across the top of each serving before carrying the plates to the table. Instead of balancing them across his arms like an experienced waiter in some fancy restaurant, as usual, Prompto noticed Ignis carrying them one at a time. He didn’t say anything, just took a seat at the table and gave Ignis a sincere “thank you”.

They took part in idle chat, discussing what each did that day, what they planned to do tomorrow, what still needed doing. Prompto chewed slowly, wondering if it was just him, or if the dish tasted kind of different than how Iggy usually cooked it. Taking another bite, he realized the difference. Ignis forgot the parmesan cheese that he always liberally sprinkled across the top.

Prompto looked to the others to see if anyone else noticed, but if so, they didn't seem to care. He decided not to remark. Not after seeing Ignis’ strange struggle in the kitchen. Maybe Iggy just had a head cold, or something. He’d be better by tomorrow. That kind of stuff never Ignis Scientia down for long.

When he took another hungry bite, he noticed something else. A small smile snuck onto his face. Ignis may have forgotten his usual garnish, but he’d remembered to add the promised spicy peppers to Prompto’s serving.


	4. Drowning in Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis tries to get some sleep after a tiring day, but experiences some... difficulties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! I am still alive, and still writing! I apologize profusely for the long gap in updates. The holiday season tends to make life a little hectic. Also, I have a beta, now! My dearest friend from high school has bravely stepped forth to beta my work, having no prior knowledge of FFXV, save for what I've shoved into her face. Yeah, she's just that awesome. A thousand hugs to my best friend and beta, Slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch. Best writing buddy, ever. <3 Gushing aside, I wish to alert you all that I will be changing the updates from weekly to every other week. Sorry if this makes any sadness, but my hope is deliver the best of my work to you all, and I'd rather not rush myself. All the news aside, hope you like this next chapter ;)  
> Song for this one is "As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie

Chapter 4: Drowning in Sleep    

 

Ignis stood under the shower, bowing his head under the stream of hot water. Gelled spikes of hair from his carefully styled fringe fell limp over his eyes. He rubbed his hands over his face, pushing the soaked hair to the side. If only such a thing could wipe away the memories of the hours spent, hours _wasted_ at the library. All of the weariness and frustration, and sheer _incompetence_. Water-slicked palms pressed against his eyes, trying to drive out the persistent headache. If only it were that simple…

    Hours of staring at crinkled pages. Stained and timeworn and ultimately useless. Hours spent scanning line after paragraph after chapter for anything… _anything_ that mentioned his symptoms. Searching and scanning until his vision blurred and his eyes and head ached.

Nothing of relevance. Nothing in the pile of medical texts. Nothing in the collections of bestiaries. Nothing in the books on botany. Nothing, at all.

With only the petals at his disposal, he couldn’t even manage to identify the species of the blasted plant. No, he would need to see the arrangement of the petals, the shape of the leaves… What he needed was an intact specimen. Though it would simplify identification, the thought of spitting out an entire plant did not sound at all pleasant. Perhaps he should look on the bright side of that one, then.

Ignis coughed, not bothering to muffle the sound over the loud hiss of the shower. Nor did he catch the petals in his hand. Instead, he idly watched them flutter down and drift toward the drain. They remained stuck there, battered by the water current as Ignis stared, his mind churning. _One, two, three, four, five._ Not an alarming amount, but a steady increase over the past week. Hiding the petals would become difficult, should the trend continue.

The presence of his other symptoms, the coughing, difficulty breathing, his distraction… his companions were starting to take notice. Especially after that embarrassing performance of dinner preparation. While Gladio hadn’t been around to see, Ignis knew for a fact that his struggles had not escaped the attention of Noctis and Prompto. The latter failed to hide his own worried glances throughout the meal, his troubled thoughts clear in the furrow of his brow, his pouting frown. To Ignis’ relief, however, Prompto remained blessedly silent.

But for how long? How long would _Noctis_ keep quiet? How long until Gladio found out? Once that occurred, there would be no hiding, no arguing that he was fine.

What to do, then? What to do…?

Ignis closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. The damp tile of the stall felt cold and soothing against his brow. Very rarely did he find himself operating without at least a _pinch_ of knowledge. He clenched his fists.

He _despised_ not knowing.

His fingers curled harder, unimpeded by the fabric of his gloves.

It… it made him afraid.

Perhaps… he should just tell the others? Or, if not all of them, then at least Noctis?

Neatly trimmed nails cut into his bare palms, leaving tiny red curves against the skin.

           No. He couldn’t. If he found himself frightened by the lack of knowledge, then he could not expect everyone else to remain calm, either. Not with emotions still raw from watching Insomnia… their feelings of security and familiarity, burn away in the distance. A smoking silhouette on the horizon, far from their reach. Ignis did not dare add more problems. Not when they all had so much to worry about, already.

And with Niflheim constantly on their heels, a moment of distraction could bring this whole endeavor to secure the Throne to a quick end. Best to carry on his search alone. At least until they sorted out the cause and cure of Noctis’ headaches, Ignis vowed. The Prince’s health always stood above his own in priority. Always. Once Noctis felt better, Ignis could openly tend to his own needs.

After having quite enough with frustration and gloom, Ignis busied his mind with more useful work, crafting backup plans as he washed himself. If all else failed, perhaps he could seek the aid of the Oracle once they reached Altissia. He’d rather not bother the Lady Lunafreya with his problems, but her skills and knowledge as a healer could provide aid, should he need it. Perhaps she had encountered something similar to his condition among those she assisted?

By the time the water cooled enough to drive him out, Ignis managed to scribble down a few more possible sources of information in a mental list. The promise of further options and backup plans eased his mind. Ignis drew in a slow, deep breath, wincing at the slight ache in his ribs. _From the coughing, most likely._

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A shiver jolted through his bones as his feet hit the cold tiled floor. A single white towel sat on a small shelf above the toilet. Glancing down at the pile of damp towels discarded at his feet, Ignis supposed he should be thankful that his roommates had even saved him one. _Now, if only they could pick up after themselves..._ Ignis yanked it from the shelf and wrapped it around his shoulders with a shudder.

“Only _you_ could find a way to be chilled in Lestallum,” Ignis grumbled into the mirror. He sighed. All those years of people calling him cold back in university, perhaps they were correct? “A frosted heart, indeed.” A soft bed and warm pajamas sounded lovely. Perhaps they would trigger a thaw, he thought, grinning.

Unable to stand the chill against his wet skin for very long, Ignis dried off quickly, rubbing the towel through his hair until it ceased dripping. Still damp, but no longer threatening to soak his pillow. It would suffice. Normally, he chose to stay up reading or checking the news on his phone until it thoroughly dried, but a heavy weariness persuaded him to forgo the usual routine. The call of sleep proved far too strong, and he saw no reason to resist.

After folding the towel into a neat square and placing it on the back of the toilet, Ignis knelt to tidy the mess on the floor. In moments, the used towels sat next to the shower in a wrinkly but organized little stack. He turned to gather his discarded clothes from where he’d left them draped over the counter.

Steam leaked from the bathroom, fogging his glasses as he pushed the door open. Stepping into the dark room, Ignis slid the glasses off his nose and folded them with care. Guided by the dim light of three charging phones and the equally dull glow emitting from the screen of his own, Ignis navigated to his luggage with tentative steps. After stowing away his folded clothing and placing his glasses on the small nightstand near his side of the bed, Ignis lifted the covers and slid under, wrapping himself in softness with a quiet, contented groan.

Nearby, Noctis’ sleeping form remained concealed under a pile of blankets. It was a reassuringly familiar presence for Ignis. He’d spent years sharing a bed with the Prince, from early childhood when nightmares drove them to seek one another’s comfort, to just a few nights previously as they slept crushed together in their tent.

Ignis stifled a yawn as he set a morning alarm on his phone. Last to shower, last to bed, and first to rise in the morning. The same routine for the past several years of his life. His fingers clenched around his phone as the screen dimmed, leaving a discolored splotch in his vision.

The same routine from his old life. His life from Insomnia.

Never again would he awaken in his own bed. Awakening safe in the cozy apartment he shared with Noctis. Never again would he tiptoe into the tiny kitchen to make his coffee. Down the hall to begin the long ordeal of waking Noctis.

It was all gone. No matter how many times he told himself, the news could still strike him out of nowhere, just like that. Like a part of his mind had accepted it and moved on, but another part remained stuck. Still staring while his home burned.

He pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders, blinking hard in the darkness as he tried to shift his thoughts to something else. _Home may be lost, but its most vital piece rests safe at your side. And no one will take that from you._ _Never._ Ignis closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. As long as he had Noctis, he must - he _would_ \- push forward.

“G’night, Iggy.”

Ignis nearly flung himself from the bed with daggers drawn at the sleepy murmur. One that certainly did _not_ belong to Noctis. Only the familiarity of the voice kept him from making a complete fool of himself. Blue crystalline sparks flickered around his fingers, then dissipated as he hastily halted the summoning of his weapons.

“Prompto!?” he gasped, shuffling a few inches away, further toward his own edge of the bed. _Not Noctis. It’s not Noctis. Why isn’t it Noctis?_ _And where-?_ His drowsy mind whirled as his heart slowly settled back into his chest, eventually ceasing its efforts to escape. _Ah, yes… the altered sleeping arrangements..._

“Mhmm…” came the sleep-heavy reply. The sheets rustled as Prompto rolled over to face Ignis, though neither could see clearly in the dark. Just vague silhouettes and Prompto’s pale skin.

“Noct wanted to switch, ‘member? Put the two restless sleepers t‘gether, I guess…”

“Ah. Er, y-yes, thank you. I do recall.” Under other circumstances, he would have found Prompto’s sleepy mumbles rather delightful. But he’d rather not dwell on that, at the moment. Would rather not think about sharing a bed, a very small hotel bed, with Prompto. That warm little body lying just inches from his own chilly limbs. Gods, please let him be clothed in more than just his boxers. _Please, just allow me that one small thing._

Ignis swallowed hard, shoving the image from his mind. Perhaps he should just sleep on the floor? But Prompto would surely take offense… Nervous dread crept through his veins with every soft breath of Prompto’s he heard. Those simple sounds were far too lovely...

    “Hope ‘s’alright,” Prompto whispered, interrupting Ignis’ wandering thoughts.

    “Yes. It’s… it’s quite all right.” Ignis somehow managed to keep his voice normal.

    “Cool…” Prompto trailed off with a long, contented sigh.

Heat flared across Ignis’ cheeks at the sound. That genuine, open noise of unexaggerated satisfaction. To make matters worse, his imagination supplied an image of the gunner’s sleepy little smile, and how it would make the freckles scattered across his nose scrunch ever so slightly. Ignis wrenched his mind away from that particular fixation. The fact that he even _knew_ of such a tiny detail, that he could see it so clearly in his mind… He needed to stop.

Silence, save for the steady breathing of his companions, pressed down on Ignis as he lay on his back, arms folded tight across his chest. It shouldn’t bother him. Honestly. He was an adult, not some hormone-addled teenager _._

Over the course of their little adventure, however, Prompto had proved himself an avid cuddler. How many mornings had Ignis woken to see the gunner’s wiry limbs flung haphazardly around Noctis, or even Gladio?

Ignis stared into the dark and pictured just how it would look, come morning. The imagined scene didn’t displease him as much as it should have. No. It seemed to produce quite the opposite reaction. Perhaps he should just snatch the blond up right now and save them both the trouble?

_Don’t. You._ Dare _._ His conscience hissed the moment he even half-considered the idea. As much as Prompto enjoyed engaging in physical contact, to grab the man without his consent left a bad taste in Ignis’ mouth. Even more so when he realized just how little casual touch Prompto directed toward him, as opposed to Noctis and Gladio. Not that Ignis at all desired to have his ass slapped, as Prompto somehow deemed appropriate among the others. Maybe it was for the best that they each kept their distance.

Ignis pulled the blanket up to his chin, scooting another inch toward his own side. He dared not go further, lest he risk falling off in his sleep. Swallowing hard, he tried to put his trust in Prompto to remain on his own side of the accursed small bed. He tried to push the tangle of thoughts from his mind, knowing that nothing else could be done. When morning came, he’d deal with whatever had transpired.

Once he’d calmed, sleep claimed Ignis quicker than most nights.

As Ignis slept, he dreamed. Soft, wonderful dreams.

  


Light, golden and warm, reflected off the lenses of his glasses. The setting sun bathed everything in a soft glow as it crept toward the horizon. The stone beneath Ignis’ hands felt pleasantly warm from baking in the heat all day. Runes flickered and shone in the fading light, painting his fingers a light greenish-blue. From his perch on the Haven, Ignis could feel the slightest breeze ruffle his hair, carrying the clean scent of open sky and crisp pine. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back with a full smile, his breaths and heartbeat working in a lovely, slow rhythm.

A hand settled atop his own, the glowing runes peeking between criss-crossed fingers. Wrapped in the heavy calm of the Haven, Ignis didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the sudden contact. Instead, he turned his head, his surroundings blurring like a smeared painting as he moved.

Prompto sat next to him, legs hanging off the edge as he smiled at the sun. It set his hair aglow, gilding each strand into sunlight itself. Ignis wanted to reach out, to wrap his bare hands in it, wrap himself in the warmth and the light.

Before he could stop himself, his hand already hovered in the air, impossibly heavy. Impossibly clumsy. It pulled Ignis down, his body falling against Prompto. And then, pale, freckled arms held him, kept him sitting up in a loose embrace. Ignis tilted his head up, his heart still beating ever so slowly as Prompto smiled at him, giving a bright chuckle. It struck Ignis’ soul like a chime. It brought feeling, life, reverberating back into his heavy limbs, and he found himself finally able to command them.

His arms wrapped around broad, sturdy shoulders, returning Prompto’s embrace. It felt… like nothing he’d ever experienced. Had everything stopped there, had time frozen and left them in that scene, simply holding one another on the warm Haven, Ignis would still feel blessed beyond all belief. Just to have Prompto in his arms, the solid presence and heat, the feel of him breathing… just _there_ … Ignis didn’t need anything else. Would never need anything else.

Ignis felt lips press against his own, and the world fell out from under him.

He couldn’t help the tiny whimper that bubbled up from his throat, but Prompto only smiled into the kiss, letting out a small, joyful noise of his own. It shot through Ignis like a spark.

He felt steady hands run through his hair, sending shivers cascading over his skin. He let Prompto wind his fingers through the longer, ashy brown layers sweeping down near the back of his neck. He let Prompto pull him closer, kiss him harder, lips moving against lips and Ignis powerless against it all.

It felt glorious. Like drinking in honeyed sunlight.

Ignis lifted a hand to brush across Prompto’s jaw, following the fine contour up to his hairline. His thumb swiped over a flushed cheek, and every single freckle popped and sparked against his skin. Someone yelled in the distance, calling out his name, but Ignis couldn’t tear himself away. He didn’t want to.

It felt like he was growing lighter and lighter, his body filled with chocobo down. Prompto pulled away, leaning back to look at him with something sad melting into that easy smile. The yelling sounded closer, the voice naggingly familiar.

Too lightheaded to move or even speak, Ignis stared as tears streaked down Prompto’s smiling face. They flickered, turning to light purple-blue petals as they fell from his cheeks. Through the haze and the desperate shouting in his head, Ignis noticed they shared the same rare hue as Prompto’s eyes. Absolutely stunning.

With a push of effort, he reached out to wipe the tears away. They looked so terribly out of place. But his hands weren’t there.

Instead, a haze of petals fluttered, drifting away in the warm breeze like so many butterflies. He watched them join the others, the ones that were once tears. His head started to spin. Ignis couldn’t breathe.

He looked down, and the rest of his body dissolved into a cloud of petals. They floated on the wind, away from the Haven, leaving Prompto by himself. The sad smile remained in place, even as tears wet the stone below.

  


Well into the middle of the night, Ignis twitched awake with a faint cough. His mind moved slow through the lingering fog of his dream, still half-anchored by sleep. Keeping his eyes shut, he shuddered against the chill of the hotel’s air conditioner and tried to go back. He wanted to find Prompto, that sunshine smile and simple warmth. It felt close. He pressed against it with a contented huff, sleep just starting to soften the edges of his thoughts, once again. Why should he ever desire to leave such comfort?

The blanket draped over his shoulders warded off most of the chill. Pleasant heat warmed his chest and belly, radiating from the solid weight pressed comfortably against him. Ignis let out a drowsy sigh, heavy with content. Curling into the warmth, he nuzzled his nose and mouth into a feathery, oddly familiar-smelling softness. He drew in a breath, idly noting the fragrance of cheap hotel shampoo layered over traces of gunpowder and natural oils.

Something clicked in the back of his mind, a tiny alarm going off. Ignis ignored it in favor of burrowing his face deeper into the softness and scent, arms tightening around that solid heat. One of his hands rested on something firm and unfamiliar.

The warmth next to him shifted, pressing up against his chest with a low hum. The alarms in Ignis’ head grew louder. He opened his eyes, blinking in the dark until they adjusted. He looked down to see messy tufts of light hair. _Prompto_. With his head tucked just under Ignis’ chin. His hands tangled in the front of Ignis’ loose-fitting sleep shirt as they rested against his breastbone. A wonder his thumping heart didn’t wake the clinging gunner.

Ignis let out a shuddering breath. Dread swamped his already frazzled mind when he realized that his own hand had wandered from where he usually kept it tucked under his pillow. His treacherous fingers rested just above Prompto’s hipbone in a snug hold. Prompto’s old, worn out tank top bunched up over Ignis’ wrist where he’d slipped his hand underneath, exposing the pale ridge of bone. That dream, the feeling of Prompto’s lips on his, carrying the taste of sunlight… it ripped through Ignis’ mind like a bullet.

Gods, what was he doing? What was… Ignis swallowed hard. His face burned as he became aware of another, terribly persistent issue. His pajama pants… they hadn’t fit so snug when he’d put them on... A fresh wave of despair crashed over him. No. No, this wasn’t at all appropriate. _Astrals, why right_ now _of all times?_ And with Prompto so close, he was practically nestled up against- Ignis swallowed. He had to do something. Preferably before Prompto woke up. He needed to-

Prompto shifted in his sleep, wriggling himself flush against Ignis.

Prompto was too close. Too warm, too much. Gods help him, it was too much.

Ignis reacted without thought. Nothing mattered except putting as much distance between himself and Prompto as possible. Shaking hands wrenched Prompto from his shirt, and in the clutches of panic and guilt, Ignis shoved the sleeping man away before retreating to his own side of the bed. He pressed himself against the mattress, breaths coming in scratchy gasps as he waited for his heart to slow. 

Disturbed by the rough treatment, Prompto murmured something vague and rolled onto his side. With nothing else to cling to, he wrapped his arms around his pillow, instead, hugging it to his chest with a heavy sigh. Then, silence. Stillness.

The ceiling stretched dark and featureless above Ignis’ head, offering no distractions for his mind. From what he could hear, Prompto seemed to have drifted back to sleep; a small blessing. He’d feared waking the other man after such clumsy flailing, but perhaps Prompto had remained unaware the whole time? Ignis could only hope.

What if Prompto had awakened to find Ignis’ hand creeping up his shirt? Under those circumstances, Ignis knew he wouldn’t be able to look at Prompto without shame. And Prompto would likely shun Ignis’ presence out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe even disgust. But...perhaps he deserved such a reaction...

Ignis rolled over, huddling up on the very edge of the mattress. If he fell off, then so be it. A good enough punishment. He shoved his face into his pillow and shivered. Already, he missed the warmth, the solid weight of Prompto. Even that briefest of contact left him longing for more. His chest felt like an empty, gaping cavern without the smaller man tucked against it.

Balling up the rest of his blanket, Ignis curled around it and pressed his eyes shut. It didn’t breathe, didn't give off any warmth, or make wonderful little snuffling sounds as it slept. It didn't feel like Prompto. Not at all. But still, he tried to pretend.

    Somehow, Ignis made it through the night without falling off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yippee! I have a Tumblr! Please feel free to pop in and chat with me about FFXV or reading or writing or anything. [ Link ](http://sunshineandsnark27.tumblr.com/)


	5. Drowning in Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets ready for the morning, struggles with indecision, and goes to face Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry it took so long! There was life, Episode Ignis, and holiday craziness, but despite it all, here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it! If so, please drop a comment or kudos, as they are the motivation that keeps me going.  
> Also, please give a massive amount of love and applause to the lovely Slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch for their excellent work in beta reading and overall encouragement. Really, they have made writing this a better experience, and a lot more fun.  
> Chapter theme is "This Modern Love" by Bloc Party

 

Chapter 5: Drowning in Apologies

 

    The sound of an alarm, some loud rock song, blared through the room. Gladio’s morning alarm. Crashing through his sleep like a Behemoth in an antique store. Prompto grumbled and shoved his face against his pillow. He really didn’t feel like giving up this bed, just yet. It was such a _nice_ bed. Especially after so many nights camping on cold, hard Havens. Yeah, this bed was much friendlier to his poor spine. And who was he to break up such a nice friendship?

    As Gladio dragged himself out of the other bed with a low grumble, Prompto let himself drift between sleep and waking. Not like there was any rush. He could hear Iggy in the bathroom doing his morning grooming, and Noctis probably wouldn’t get up for another hour. The noise and commotion involved with _that_ would prevent Prompto from sleeping too late.

    A rasping cough came from the bathroom, followed by the sound of Ignis clearing his throat. Prompto cracked one eye open, squinting at the closed door. An image of Iggy with his hair down, soft and unstyled and fresh out of bed flitted through his mind. If only he’d been awake when Iggy finished his nightly shower. Seeing Iggy relaxed and casual was a rare sight. A _nice_ rare sight.

           Something stuck in Prompto’s throat as half-formed memories of last night came rushing in, ruining his pleasant thoughts. All hopes of snatching a few more minutes of sleep crumbled as his stupid heart kicked in his chest, acid burning up through his stomach. Something had happened while he slept. Something involving Iggy. Gods, what did he do?

    The bathroom door opened and Ignis walked out, hair perfectly styled and swept  from his face, looking way too good for this early. Prompto squeezed his eyes shut. A few more minutes in bed sounded great. Even if he couldn't _actually_ sleep. Anything but facing Ignis. Prompto chewed his lip as he curled inward, hands grasping the edge of his pillow like a lifeboat. After last night… whatever the heck had happened… He couldn’t remember much. Just being comfortable and warm and safe. And then _not._

Prompto frowned as he strained to remember. _That’s right. You cuddled Iggy. You…_ cuddled... _Iggy_ … How was he not dead? Seriously. How? He should have a dagger buried between his shoulders right now.

Memories slowly seeped back as Prompto lay there, trying to take steady breaths. So he’d snuggled up to Iggy, and then... And then Iggy had shoved him across the bed. Hard. Hard enough to wake him up, at least. Like Iggy was annoyed, or… or disgusted…? Prompto curled tighter, squeezing the pillow in his fingers. Iggy was probably pissed. The guy enjoyed his personal space. Typical Prompto, barreling right in and screwing everything up.

_Seriously, like you ever had a chance with him in the first place. Guy can’t even stand to be near you._

Prompto ground his teeth, trying to push against the hissing taunts of his own stupid mind. Because even his own brain hated him.

No. Ignis didn’t despise him. He didn’t. Poor guy was probably just startled, that’s all. Not like Iggy was used to having someone cling to him while he slept. Noct definitely didn't do stuff like that. So that's why Iggy shoved him. It wasn't disgust, or anything. Iggy was just startled.

Even as he reasoned with himself, Prompto knew it wouldn't work. Those venomous little thoughts were relentless. And once they crept in, he could never silence them, no matter how hard he fought, how hard he reasoned.

 _He puts up with you because you’re Noctis’ friend. Do you really think he’d ever want someone like you_?

Stop.

 _Some_ thing?

The small metal studs of Prompto’s leather bracelet bit into his fingers as he wrapped a hand around his wrist, squeezing hard. A grounding reminder of his reality. If Iggy ever found out, he'd be way more than just disgusted.

    A wet bubbling sound and the husky hiss of escaping steam distracted Prompto. A moment of needed relief from his own mind. Ignis was making his coffee. Probably just some generic brand supplied by the hotel. Not exactly something Iggy would enjoy. Nothing could beat his coveted Ebony, but as long as the stuff had caffeine... Prompto sent a silent thanks to the gods that he wouldn’t have to deal with a coffee-deprived Ignis. That would be a death sentence.

    As Ignis paced around the kitchen and waited for his coffee to finish, Prompto rolled around in bed. He still didn’t want to get up, but he couldn’t get comfy, either. And Ignis kept coughing.

           How many days had Ignis been coughing, now? Prompto peeked out from his blanket cave, keeping his eyes nearly closed as he watched Ignis. The guy rarely got sick, but when he did, getting him to actually stop and take it easy was like trying to persuade a pissed off coeurl to take a bath. Not happening. Or at least, not without some nasty scratches.

A rhythmic beep filled the tiny hotel room, bringing Prompto further awake. He took a deep breath. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee comforted him. It carried memories of waking up at Noctis’ apartment on weekends, that heavy scent hanging in the air... Iggy standing in the kitchen with his steaming mug, illuminated by the morning light streaming in from the vast window across the room. His small, guarded smile when he saw Prompto stumble in and slump into a kitchen chair, still groggy but awake enough to happily accept an offered cup of coffee. Then they’d sit together at the kitchen table, or Prompto would watch while Iggy finished making breakfast, both chatting until it was time to wake Noctis.

With a yawn, Prompto turned his head to look over at the Prince. Still passed out. He frowned. Why hadn't Iggy woken him, yet? Was he seriously letting Noct sleep in? Then Prompto remembered the headaches. The look of worry that flickered through Ignis’ eyes with every cringe, there and then carefully concealed in an instant.

A splutter and a cough from across the room. Prompto winced. Noctis wasn’t the only one who should rest.

With a hushed sigh, Prompto started to inch toward the edge of the bed. Might as well get up before Gladio came over to badger him. And with Iggy busy downing his coffee, it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak into the bathroom. His hair probably looked like a chocobo nest from rolling around so much. And if he wanted to apologize to Iggy, he didn’t want messy hair and nasty unbrushed teeth. Iggy had high standards and-

Prompto stared at the folds in his blanket. Why did that matter? Yeah, Iggy had high standards. _And you’ll never reach them. So stop worrying about how you look._ With a sigh, Prompto pushed himself from the bed, shedding sheets and blankets as he sat up.

Gladio and Ignis stood in the cramped kitchenette, talking about something or another. Neither noticed Prompto as he slid from the bed and snatched his toiletries and Crownsguard uniform from his suitcase. Not wanting to disturb their conversation or draw attention to himself, Prompto drew the bathroom door shut with a quiet click. After popping in his contacts, he stared into the mirror and brushed his teeth.

Yeah, his hair looked pretty messy. But when _didn’t_ he wake up with killer bedhead? Because all of those unruly layers just loved to make more work for him.

He rinsed his mouth and spit into the sink, eyes flicking back up to the mirror. Instead of reaching for his hair gel, Prompto stared at his own face. Pale, despite hours out in the sun. His narrow eyes, pink around the edges, like he’d rubbed them too much after crying. Gods...

Prompto grinned, pretending he was taking a selfie with Noct. Thin lips stretched over his teeth in what looked more like a crooked grimace. The corners of his mouth fell into a frown. What was he expecting? That he’d wake up one morning and look any different? Like life was some silly fairy tale?

Bleary eyes drifted across the trail of freckles leading over his nose and cheeks. Like specks of dirt that he could never wash off.

_Well, some of us must make up for our absence of dazzling smiles and charming freckles._

That voice, elegantly accented, drifted up from somewhere deep inside. Prompto’s eyes widened. Ignis had told him that, strolling with him through the Marketplace. And Prompto had blushed and stuttered and tried to hide his freckles from view because they _weren’t_ . How could those spots be charming? Charming was not on the list of words he’d use to describe himself. Prompto shook his head. He’d call Iggy crazy, but… but he trusted Iggy’s opinion the most out of anyone. After all, Iggy didn't lie about things. And he hated empty flattery. When Iggy gave praise, he meant it. So... why? Why would he say something like that? That his freckles were _charming_?

“Just being nice,” Prompto said into the mirror, glaring into the pale blue of his own eyes, as if challenging himself to disagree. “Iggy’s just being nice, like always.” But even as he said it, the sound of Iggy’s voice wouldn’t leave him. That fond tone, softly wrapping around such kind words. It bugged him. He’d never heard Iggy say anything like that to Noct or Gladio. Not with such warm amusement in his voice.

Something fragile dared to unfurl in Prompto’s chest. Did Iggy…? Prompto shook his head. No, not after last night. Not after being shoved away like that.

_You can think what you want, but… Iggy smiles a lot more, now. You make him laugh, too._

Prompto’s palms grew damp, began to shake. Wasn’t that what Noct had told him? At the time, he hadn’t thought much on the comment. Not when his mind had catapulted into an embarrassed, anxious frenzy. But now… Was he just reading into things too much? Why would Ignis say something so nice, act like he enjoyed Prompto’s company, and then seem so disgusted to be near him? Iggy had practically fallen off the bed trying to get away.

The room started to feel unbearably cramped, his head spinning as he struggled to take deep breaths, to calm down. Had to calm down. It was too early for this. Desperate for distraction, Prompto grabbed his bottle of hair gel, hands shaking as he flipped the cap. He needed to finish up in the bathroom. He'd freak out over what Iggy thought of him after getting some breakfast into his stomach. Maybe that would help clear his mind.

Once he’d swept his hair up into its signature style and pulled on his jeans and tank top, Prompto turned to open the door. Gladio’s gruff voice, hushed, but still easy to hear behind the door, made Prompto pause. At first he thought the big guy was just trying to wake Noct. That would explain the note of tension. But then he heard Iggy respond, voice cool and words clipped.

Prompto hesitated. He really didn't want to stumble into the middle of an argument, not between those two. Talk about scary. He leaned against the door, listening to the conversation play out. When they finished, he'd be safe to enter the room.

“-sure you’re doin’ okay?”  

A pause from Ignis, followed by a careful response. “Yes? Why would you assume otherwise?”

“Because you seem kinda off. Have been for the past few days.”

“Oh? Would you care to elaborate?”

Prompto pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear Ignis. It felt shitty eavesdropping on him, but Iggy _had_ been acting odd for a while, now. If there was something wrong… It's not like Iggy was ever open about stuff like that. If Prompto could figure out was wrong, maybe he could help.

A heavy sigh from Gladio. “Don’t play dumb, Ignis. It doesn’t suit you. You’ve been distracted. Spacey. Less chatty, these past few days.”

“I’m not what most would label ‘chatty’ by any stretch of the imagination.” Iggy sounded a little annoyed.

“Look. I know you don't like to share what's goin’ on in that head of yours, but... ” Gladio trailed off and his silence hung heavy in the air. Prompto waited, tense against the door. He held his breath, though he didn't know why. “We've all been through hell, Iggy. And we haven’t had much time to come to terms with things. We lost our home, our families. I… I know you and your uncle were close-”

Ignis must have cut Gladio off. Maybe with a raised hand or a sharp glare.  

Prompto turned the conversation over in his head. Now that he thought it over, he really _hadn't_ seen any reaction from Iggy since the news of Insomnia’s fall. Nothing. Was Iggy… was he holding it back? Was the stress of it making him sick? Gods, Prompto hoped not.

They might look to Iggy for guidance, to be their voice of reason in tough times, but that didn't mean that Iggy should bottle up his grief. They were all upset. And scared. And Iggy shouldn't have to hide all of that just for their sakes. He shouldn't have to deal with it, alone. They wouldn't think less of him if he let it out.

Prompto wanted to leap from his hiding place and tell Iggy that, to let him know that it was okay. _Yeah, and how awkward would that be?_ Poor guy already seemed uncomfortable enough with Gladio on his case. He didn't need a bigger audience.

“I appreciate your concern. Truly.” The cold, stern tone softened around the edges as Ignis continued speaking. Maybe he remembered that Gladio was just trying to help, trying to be supportive in his own, very direct way. Maybe Ignis was just too tired to keep his composure. Prompto could only wonder.

“I’m just… rather worn from the past few days. My worry rests with Noct, more than anywhere else. Until he is well, I am afraid my mind will remain preoccupied.” Ignis paused. “As for what happened in Insomnia… it… has happened. It now rests in the past. And I have grieved  and moved on. As I must.”   

    Silence. “All right, Iggy,” Gladio huffed. “All right. Just take care of yourself, too, got it? And don’t be afraid to talk to me about things. You’re not the only adult, here.”

    Ignis let out brief puff of a laugh. “With your antics, sometimes I wonder…”

    “I mean it, Ignis.”

    “Duly noted,” Ignis responded, sounding tired, but not as hostile.

    Gladio must have taken it as a signal to end the conversation. A few more quiet mumbles that Prompto couldn't hear, and then silence. Prompto started to lean away from the door, when heavy footsteps headed toward the bathroom. Even though Prompto heard him coming, he still leapt back with a squawk when Gladio's fist pounded on the door.  He stumbled, banging his hip against the corner of the counter with a hissed curse.

    “Hello, bruise...” Prompto mumbled, rubbing the sore spot with a glare at the door.

“You done curlin’ your lashes in there? I gotta take a leak,” Gladio shouted through the door.

Prompto yanked the door open, stomping out to throw his pajamas into a pile on his suitcase. “I don’t curl my lashes. These are _all natural_ , baby,” he said with a wink.

Gladio shook his head with a rumbling chuckle.

Looking around the room, Prompto noticed that Iggy was gone. “Hey, where’s Igg?” Prompto called out, stopping Gladio before he could close the bathroom door.

“Went downstairs for breakfast.”

“Oh. Cool. Think I'll head down, too. My stomach’s starting to yell.” Prompto glanced over to Noctis’ bed, where the Prince remained sprawled in a deep sleep. “Will you be okay getting Noctis up? ‘Cause I can hang around. You know, if you think you’ll need my help.”

A wide grin spread across Gladio’s face as he watched Prompto fidget, looking from Noctis to the hallway door.

“Go on. Can always carry him down if I have to.” Gladio made to shut the door, but stopped to poke his head back out. “Hey. Prompto.”

“Yeah?” The blond tilted his head. Something about Gladio’s solemn tone set his nerves on edge.

“Try ‘n’ keep it calm around Iggy, all right? Seems a little grumpy, today.”

“Will do,” Prompto assured with a wink. “Don't want to end up in one of his new recipes, or anything.”

Prompto crossed the room to grab his boots from where he’d kicked them off near his side of the bed. His eyes drifted up to the rumpled covers.

The bed he’d shared with Iggy.

Prompto swallowed, thinking of last night. He’d been asleep when Iggy climbed under the blankets, but still. Iggy had been _right there_. Just inches away. Iggy in his pajamas. Gods, that fabric always looked so soft. A perfect contrast when it was wrapped snug around all of those sharp angles and planes.

Prompto shook his head. Instead, he shifted his concentration toward tugging on his boots as he bounced on one foot, trying not to topple over. _Focus, Prompto!_ He should think of how to apologize for clinging to the guy in his sleep. Get everything all planned out in his head. Or else, he’d turn into a babbling, blushing mess and make a fool of himself. Like always.

Prompto grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, stepping out into the hallway. The long corridor remained pretty empty besides a few other early risers shuffling downstairs for the complimentary breakfast. He gave each person a quick glance, but didn’t spot Ignis among them. A strange mix of relief and disappointment swept through him. Iggy was already downstairs, then.

Prompto trotted toward the stairwell, breezing past the other inhabitants of the hall. The worn carpet, more brown than red after years of dirty footprints, muffled the soft thump of his boots. He skipped down the stairs, heart bouncing with the rhythm of his feet, mind stumbling over what he needed to say. Just a simple apology. Easy. So easy.

So why was it so hard to get the words right in his head?

_Because you want to hide it. Pretend it never happened. Hide it away like everything else. You’re such a coward._

Prompto paused on the last step, fists clenching at his sides. Yeah. There was a lot that he kept hidden away. Things he didn’t say because he was too nervous, because he knew, he _knew_ Iggy would never return his feelings. And that rejection, the risk of destroying a hard-earned friendship… it terrified him. But he couldn’t let fear rule him. If he backed down every single time he was afraid, then he’d never have befriended Noctis. He’d never have gotten closer with Iggy. He'd never have joined the Crownsguard and left Insomnia on this crazy trip-turned-vigilante-revenge-thing, and he’d be just a smoking pile of ashes in the rubble of his empty house.

For now, he’d apologize. Simple as that. And then… Prompto bit his lip, trying to focus and keep his mind from spinning off into a panic. And then he would work up the courage to pursue Ignis. Because as crazy as it felt to even think it, Ignis might actually, _somehow_ , be attracted to him. That wild, tentative little idea... it felt way too nice to be true. But he might as well try.

Prompto hopped off of the last step, striding out of the stairwell with his shoulders squared. He’d take it slowly, carefully. And if it turned out that Ignis _didn’t_ like him… well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it? But at least he could put an end to the torture of what-ifs and maybes. In a way, those sometimes felt worse than the possibility of rejection.

    As soon as Prompto entered the serving room, his stomach growled at the first whiff of so many breakfast smells. Before obeying the demands of his empty belly, Prompto let his eyes drift around, catching on unfamiliar faces until he spotted Ignis. Tucked into a booth at the corner of the room, he sat with one lanky leg crossed over the other in what was usually his relaxed pose. Only he didn’t look all that relaxed.

    With a hesitant step closer, Prompto stared, frowning. While Iggy’s hair and clothing looked as perfect as always, the normally prim and proper man slouched in his seat, picking halfheartedly at a small bowl of fruit. Next to the bowl was a croissant with a single nibble taken out of it. A few flaky crumbs dusted its miniature plate. Iggy’s mug of coffee sat nearby.

          Tired eyes stared down at the chunks of fruit with disinterest. Even Iggy’s hand movements as he shifted the chunks around were all wrong. Listless and clumsy.

Prompto hesitated. Gladio had said that Ignis was grumpy… but this didn’t look grumpy. Iggy looked more exhausted than anything. He hadn't looked this bad yesterday, had he? Guilt bubbled up in the emptiness of Prompto’s stomach. Had he kept Ignis awake, last night? Gods, he really, _really_ needed to apologize. Iggy was the last out of all of them who needed to lose sleep.

Fingers twitching against one another, Prompto turned and slunk off to grab a plate. He didn't want to sit down and start talking with Iggy, only to get up a few seconds later because his stomach wouldn't shut up. Food would make a nice distraction, too, if things got too awkward. Like, if he tried to open his mouth before thinking, he could just shove a bagel or something in there. Sounded like a enough good plan.

The array of choices and his own indecision offered a few minutes of distraction before Prompto finally settled on a pile of scrambled eggs. Definitely not Ignis-level cooking, but they didn't look _too_ runny. He tossed a few links of sausage on top, followed by a slice of toast smeared with a thin layer of jelly. After a moment of indecision, he balanced a small apple next to the messy pile, snagged a styrofoam cup of coffee, and stuffed a handful of creamers into his vest pocket. The caffeine would probably crank up his nerves, but he couldn't resist the comfortable familiarity of sharing a morning coffee with Iggy.

Balancing his mess of a plate, Prompto turned back to where Iggy sat and forced himself to walk forward. Tried not to fixate on Ignis’ frown. Because what he _really_ needed to focus on was not dropping his plate like a klutz. That would be a great start for the day, wrecking a plate in front of Iggy.

As Prompto crept closer, a sharp odor cut through the haze of breakfast food. Prompto crinkled his nose, fighting down the urge to gag. There was no mistaking the nasty bite of a Remedy. Not when he ended up with one of those bitter nightmares forced down his throat after almost every hunt. Gods, he almost hated the medicine more than the ailments. Poison sucked, but confusion wasn't _so_ bad. Well, other than that one little occasion when he'd opened fire on Noct. That was bad.

Another look at Ignis’ tired face and slumped posture - gods, it was a little unsettling - and his mouth raced ahead of his mind before he could even set his plate down. So much for planning.

“Iggy, I'm sorry! Like, _really_ sorry! I-”

Ignis’ whole body jolted, his head jerking up to look at Prompto with wide eyes.

Prompto snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together. Great, now he'd scared the crap out of the man. Good start.

Surprise faded from Ignis’ eyes, the light green gaze softening into a look of confusion and concern. Prompto set his plate down a little too hard, the pile of eggs threatening to avalanche right off. It rattled softly against the table as he clung to it with shaky hands. Shiva, those eyes… Razor-sharp and guarded one second, then... _this_. Kind and concerned and… no one else ever looked at him like that. Like he was something important.

“What-” When his voice came out as a thick rasp, Ignis cleared his throat and tried again. “Whatever are you apologizing for? Barely noon and you've already found something?”

Prompto let out an awkward chuckle, lowering himself to his chair. “Um, yeah… Gotta get an early start if I wanna meet my quota, right?”

          “Prompto… why are you sorry?”

Running his thumb over the tines of his fork, Prompto tried his best to slow down, to collect his racing thoughts before he opened his mouth, again.

“You know, for last night? I-I’m really sorry. Probably kept you up with all my rolling around. And then I..” He let out an awkward laugh as he pushed himself to continue. “I got kinda clingy. And you probably hated that. Like, I know you’re not big on other people touching you, and then _there I was_ … So… I’m sorry.” Prompto stared down into his lap. He couldn't handle Iggy and those eyes. Those freaking gorgeous eyes. The prongs on his fork dug harder into his thumb.

Silence stretched between them, awkward and unbearable until Prompto _had_ to look up. Iggy looked equal parts dismayed and ashamed. It was an odd mix to see on his face. Even stranger was Iggy showing any reaction _at all_.

Finally, Ignis cleared the expression from his face and gave a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers bumped his glasses up his brow.

“Prompto… you have no need to apologize for an incident that you could not control.”

“But I kept you up and-”

“You didn’t. And if anyone is to apologize over what happened last night, it should be myself.”

 _What? Seriously, though. What!?_ Prompto furrowed his brow, leaning back in his chair. He slowly shook his head, looking down at the table without actually seeing it. When he looked at Ignis, the man refused to make eye contact. Instead, he stared into the depths of his coffee mug, like he wanted to drown himself in the dregs.

Prompto’s fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the fork. “Um, you weren’t the one disrespecting personal space, Iggy. I was. So _I_ should be the one apologizing,” he said carefully. Leave it to Iggy to try to shoulder all of the blame. Even worse, Prompto’s words didn't seem to persuade Iggy, at all. If anything, the look of shame only deepened.

“No, I am just as guilty. I...” Ignis struggled, his mouth searching for words that never came.

For Iggy's sake, Prompto waited quietly until the man sorted himself out.

“I overreacted when I became aware. I pushed you away, too hard for such a trivial thing. Nearly flung you from the bed...” Ignis’ fingers clenched against the table.

The movement caught Prompto’s eye, and he watched the wrinkles in Ignis’ leather gloves deepen and shift. If he could just fold those hands up in his own, unwrap those long fingers and tell Iggy that it was _fine_ …

“Ha. You really think it'd be the first time? Being thrown out of bed sounds nice compared to getting manhandled by Gladio.” A carefree grin stretched across Prompto’s face, but Ignis showed no reaction. Had Iggy even heard him?

When Ignis spoke again, his words came out in a rush. “You did nothing of consequence. I, however, I- I was asleep, but I… my hands, they-”

“Whoa. Chill, Iggy.” Prompto put his hands out like he was comforting a skittish chocobo. “It's fine. It-”

“It is not fine, Prompto! My hands were up your shirt!” Ignis’ voice came out in a rough bark.

The words hit Prompto like a flying dagger. His fingers loosened on their own as he gaped at Ignis and the fork dropped to the table with a clatter. Prompto jumped at the noise. A few people at the tables nearby looked over at the commotion, eyebrows raised. Ignis ran a hand through his hair, ducking his head.

“Wha-what…?” Fire burned across Prompto’s cheeks, and he had to try way too hard to keep his eyes off of Iggy’s hands. To keep himself from fantasizing, honestly.

Sleep-clouded memories of last night flooded his mind, but he couldn't remember anything like _that_ . And he _totally_ would have remembered something like Iggy’s hands on him. Gods, he would have remembered... But all he could recall was sliding across the bed in a tangle of sheets and Iggy scrambling over to his own side, as far away as possible. Anything else must have happened while Prompto was asleep. _Damn_ . _Of all the times to be unconscious._

An explosion of sharp coughs yanked Prompto back to the present. All his imaginings dissolved the moment he heard the distressing sounds. Turning aside, Ignis tried to muffle the noise behind a napkin. The force of his coughing fit left his hands trembling. Every wracking cough made his shoulders hitch and shudder.

Prompto thought of the bitter odor of Remedies as he sat and watched, useless. He didn't want to see Iggy suffer. But what the hell could he even do? He had to  move, react, do _something_. Prompto reached out a hand, opening his mouth to ask how he could help. Before the words could even form, Ignis shot out of his seat. A barely audible “Pardon me,” escaped between coughs as he exited the room in a few long strides.

A few inches above the table, Prompto’s hand still hovered. He let it drop with a dull thud. Heaving a sigh, he stared at the useless limb. Then, something caught his eye. A carefully folded napkin sat a few inches from his fingers, nestled near the plate with the abandoned croissant.

Prompto squinted, tilting his head lower to get a better view as he spotted something purple - more periwinkle once he thought it over - peeking from the folds. Unable to contain his curiosity, Prompto snagged a corner of the flimsy paper between his fingers and dragged it across the table. The folded napkin fell open, unveiling a fist-sized pile of small, rounded flower petals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yippee! I have a Tumblr! Please feel free to pop in and chat with me about FFXV or reading or writing or anything. [ Link](http://sunshineandsnark27.tumblr.com/)


	6. Drowning in Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis attempts to conceal his condition, learns something from an unexpected source, and makes plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Woo! I thank all of you for your continued support. Seeing your kudos and comments and all of the love has helped motivate me both in writing this, and in pushing forward in my own life. I want each and every one of you to know how much it means to me to have you as readers. <3   
> Also, my continuing gratitude and love goes out to my best friend and amazing beta reader, slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch. If the gods tried to take her from me, I would sacrifice everything to rewrite the canon of the universe for her. Anyway...  
> The song for this chapter is the highly appropriate "The Garden that You Planted" by Sea Wolf.   
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6: Drowning in Plans

 

Ignis stood with his back pressed against the door of the bathroom stall, rubbing his fingers over watery eyes. Every shaking gasp ripped through his throat and twisted at the muscles between his ribs. Another dry cough rattled from deep within his chest, spilling more petals into his hands. A few strays littered the floor around his shoes. When the episode seemed to finally end, he remained still, his whole body tensed. A moment passed before he allowed himself to relax and refill his lungs. At last, he could breathe properly. 

Sweat prickled along Ignis’ brow as he leaned against the door of the stall, pressing his shoulders against the cool metal. It was a small comfort, but he’d take it. Perhaps it was due to stress from coughing, but the restroom felt a touch on the warm side. Although anything would seem warm after the chill of their hotel room and its overpowered air conditioner. Worse than a Blizzard spell, that machine. 

Kneeling, he scooped up the few fallen petals with a swath of folded toilet paper, bundling them with the rest still crumpled in his hand. Ignis unlocked the stall door and elbowed it open, shoes clicking as he walked over the clean tile floor. The whole clump of paper and petals were tossed into the waste bin near the sink, disappearing under a covering of loosely crumpled paper towels.

With the strange evidence disposed of, Ignis gave his hands a thorough wash. He thought of how the petals scratched and tickled at his throat as he coughed. How they spilled from his hands, drifting and fluttering to the floor. A shudder ran through him and he scrubbed harder. Once his hands began to sting, Ignis paused to remove his glasses and wash his face with cold water, shivering at the sudden temperature change. 

Before replacing his glasses, Ignis shifted his gaze to the mirror. Glassy eyes roved over his reflection. It wouldn't do to walk out a disheveled mess. Especially not with Prompto keeping him company and Gladio and Noctis due to join them any moment. A few hairs had fallen from his spiked fringe, but were returned to their proper position with a quick swipe from dampened fingers. 

          He frowned, donning his glasses and adjusting them until they covered the dark circles under his eyes. They weren't anything new. Earned from many long nights with too much to read over and too little rest. But had they always been so deep? Or was he looking pale, today? The true issue: would anyone else notice? Ignis backed away from the mirror, smoothing a wrinkle from his shirt as he looked at himself from a distance. The shadows weren’t visible from too far away. He would simply have to be cautious; his eyes were an issue he could not address at the moment. Hopefully his glasses would be sufficient to conceal the worst of the discoloration.

Satisfied enough, Ignis turned and pushed open the bathroom door. He tried his best to keep his shoulders squared, his stride confident and steady. Easier said than done when standing straight sent an ache through his shoulders and ribs. He could only hope that the pain would subside once he resumed sitting. 

Perhaps he should have taken a Potion, as well as the Remedy. A risky enough action, though the biting pain and nausea in his stomach had made it necessary. There was no way of knowing if Noctis had yet awoken, or if a repeated retrieval of curatives from the Armory would rouse him. Ignis’ own personal supply risked depletion. He'd self-administered a steady dose of curatives on the more difficult days. It seemed to keep the worst of the coughing under control. Mostly.

A detour to one of Lestallum’s shops would be required, though Ignis was none too thrilled with the idea. Their frequent hotel stays were already causing a steady decline in their modest finances. They would need to take on a few hunts, soon. 

And then there was Gladio. The Shield would be on high alert, now that he’d begun to notice Ignis’ symptoms. Ignis didn’t quite know how he felt about Gladio’s mistaking of illness for pent-up grief. Neither came with an easy explanation. The latter would be preferable, he supposed. At least that explanation wouldn't land him in a hospital. 

Despite these thoughts, Ignis kept a neutral expression as he wove around a maze of worn wooden chairs and empty tables. On the far side of the room, tucked against a wall, Prompto waited for him to return. Ignis breathed a raspy sigh of relief and allowed his posture to relax by a few millimeters. Save for Prompto, the table was empty. Gladio and Noctis had not arrived, yet. 

            That gave him a little more time to rally his strength for the day ahead. Hopefully his daily dose of caffeine would begin to ward off the headache humming away behind his eyes. His constant companion. Bearable, save for when a multitude of other aches and pains assaulted his body.

As Ignis drew closer, he saw Prompto fiddling with something, fingers moving absently as he stared down at his phone. Ignis squinted, pace slowing as he tried to make out whatever Prompto had between his fingers. Realization struck like a lance through his chest, pinning him in place.  _ Blast. How did he...? _ All at once, the room felt far too cold, despite the earlier rush of heat within the bathroom. Ignis shivered as a chill skittered over his skin.  

A small pile of pale blue and bright purple flower petals sat in the middle of the table, nestled among the wrinkled napkin that Ignis had so carefully folded around them. And Prompto was staring directly at it, one of the petals pinched between his fingers. 

Closing his eyes, Ignis clenched his fists, drawing in a deep, aching breath as he sought to calm the nervous thud of his heart. A slight complication, but nothing warranting a scene. He'd already caused enough fuss with his botched attempt at apologizing. 

Now, he absolutely  _ must _ appear unconcerned. Though Prompto could appear flighty and inattentive at first glance, Ignis knew better. The man possessed an admirable eye for detail toward both his surroundings and the emotional states of others. 

Admirable, when  _ Ignis  _ wasn’t the subject of focus. He could only handle so much fretting over his personal affairs. Especially this early in the morning.

Prompto looked up as Ignis resumed his seat. Before any of them could speak, Ignis sought out his mug, downing one last sip of lukewarm coffee. It wasn’t the most pleasant brew, but the familiar bitterness brought him some comfort and washed away the odd taste left from coughing up a bouquet’s worth of flowers. It also gave him a final moment to organize his thoughts before Prompto rushed into conversation.

“You… okay, Iggy?” Prompto asked, before he’d even set his mug down. Prompto let his hands fall to the table, still fiddling with the petal. His attentive gaze rested on Ignis, though, worry creasing a thin line between his pale brows. 

Ignis kept his eyes on Prompto’s face, determined not to let them fall to the petal in Prompto’s hands. Though it  _ did _ disturb him to know that Prompto was fidgeting with it. That had been in his throat. In his  _ mouth _ . But if he allowed himself to stare, if he allowed himself to fixate on how much it bothered him, then his face might betray him. Yes, simple eye contact seemed the better option. He could wear that neutral mask formed from years of attending political debates and meetings. Attentive, but giving away nothing.

Only now, Ignis found his gaze roaming over bright eyes and freckled cheeks and pursed lips. Memories of his dream flashed through his head before he could stop them. He felt the phantom sensation of a warm mouth pressing against his. It left him wondering... Would those freckles spark and pop under his fingers? Would Prompto make the same small, joyful noises if they kissed? Would he taste like sunlight, warm and sweet on Ignis’ lips? 

_ Enough. _ None of it was real, none of it possible. Ignis repeated the words to himself, fashioned them into cold blades of rationality and ripped through those ridiculous thoughts until they fled from his mind. Nothing but silly romantic prattle. Even so, the feelings they brought to life in him, those remained… he still wondered. 

He dearly  _ wanted  _ – 

_ Enough, Ignis _ . He would not entertain these thoughts. He would not.

“Eos to Iggy? You in there?” Prompto tapped a finger against the table with a strained smile. 

Ignis started at the sound, blinking dumbly for a moment as he struggled to recollect his thoughts. He’d never answered Prompto’s question, had he?.  _ But… What  _ was _ the question? _ “My apologies. Now, what were you asking?”

Prompto raised an eyebrow. Ignis saw him bite his lip, turning the skin a flushed pink and – 

Under the table, Ignis dug his nails into the back of his hand.  _ Enough, you weak-willed fool! _

“Was just... wondering if you were okay? Kinda scared me there, not gonna lie.” 

“Ah. Nothing of concern. Only some minor throat irritation.” Ignis cleared his throat. Bringing it up served only to make him more aware of the annoyance.

“Oh. Cool.  I – I mean, obviously  _ not _ cool. But… um… c–coffee go down the wrong pipe, or something?” Prompto gestured and waved his hands vaguely as he spoke, letting the petal drift forgotten to the table. Relief flooded through Ignis. If only he could snatch it away without Prompto noticing.

“I know you love the stuff and all, but there's like, two separate places for that, you know? Air goes in one, coffee goes in the other...” Prompto trailed off, eyes falling as he seemed to realize that he was rambling.

“Hmmm… So that’s how it works? Seems I’ve forgotten my anatomy lessons,” Ignis said, trying his best to give Prompto a genuine smile. It immediately faltered when Prompto’s eyes drifted over to the napkin full of petals, lying in the middle of the table like some strange attempt at a centerpiece.

“So…” Prompto drew the word out, tilting his head as he reached forward to flick at one of the darker shaded wisps. Ignis bit his tongue, wishing Prompto would  _ at least _ stop prodding at them. “What’s up with these? Got, like, a... a  _ secret admirer _ sending you flowers?” His voice rang light and teasing as he plucked another petal from the pile and let it tumble into his palm.

Ignis wanted to crawl back into bed. And it wasn’t even noon, yet. He massaged his brow with thumb and index finger, hoping to relieve some of the tension gathering there.

“I can assure you that I have little time for anything in the nature of a relationship.” The words weighed on his tongue. It felt more like a confession than a dismissal of Prompto’s teasing. “Certainly not when I have a Prince, his friend, and a stubborn Behemoth to keep out of trouble,” he added. He made to adjust his glasses, but let his hand drop back to his lap. Best not draw attention to his eyes.

“Hey, I don’t get into  _ that _ much trouble,” Prompto challenged with a mock pout. “At least, not like,  _ every day. _ Just every other day.”

Ignis chuckled, surprising himself. Such was the skill of Prompto. Laughter and a lighter heart came easily with the young man near.

“Indeed.”

A moment of silence, then Prompto returned his eyes to Ignis with a raised brow, leaning forward. “So…?”

Ignis sighed. No more dodging the question, then. Luckily, he had an explanation prepared. A lie, really. Not that he wanted to admit it, not even to himself. Lying to Prompto… it left a bitterness in his mouth. One that mixed unpleasantly with the lingering taste of cold coffee.

“It’s… erm… just some ingredients I happened upon in the Marketplace.” How easily the words slipped from his tongue. But he couldn’t tell Prompto the true origin of the petals. Prompto worried for all of them. Far more than he should. He tried his best to keep their spirits up, even as the world threatened to crash down upon them. Ignis could not add to his worries. 

“Oh,” Prompto chirped, nodding. “Huh. Didn’t see you grab ‘em. Sheesh. How much did these things  _ cost _ ?”

“Not… too much, I can assure you,” Ignis responded slowly, raising a brow.

Prompto frowned, holding the petal level with his eyes, squinting intently at the small blue wisp. “Weird…” The word rode out on a wistful sigh. The bright blue in Prompto’s  eyes darkened as a sad half-smile flickered over his face. 

“Prompto?” Ignis leaned forward, wanting to reach out, to wrap Prompto in his arms until that look, whatever it was, melted away. Somehow, Ignis found the will to keep his hands folded on the table. Not an easy feat when Prompto looked so melancholy. That sadness in his eyes twisted at Ignis’ heart; Prompto’s happiness blazed with a light intense enough to dazzle. Its absence, however, could cast the deepest of shadows.

Prompto’s head jerked up at the sound of his name, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, looking as if he'd been caught sleeping in class. “Um, sorry. Kinda zoned out there.” 

“You looked upset,” Ignis commented, dropping his voice to a gentle hush. The one he used when bandaging wounds and checking for fevers and persuading that rest was probably the best option. He used that tone often with Prompto, he realized.

Prompto glanced back down at the petal, rubbing his other hand over the back of his neck. His nose crinkled as he let out a self-conscious laugh. “Upset?  _ Naah _ . Just… ” The words trailed off and his gaze met Ignis’, that wistful look returning. “Just remembering stuff… Fr–from home… That's all.” Blue eyes flicked away, looking off into nothing.

Ignis stared.  _ Not what I expected. Not at all. _

Looking unsure of himself, Prompto grew silent. Ignis could see him chewing on his lip. That bad habit of his.

Gladio’s words whispered through Ignis’ head, sowing unease. 

Had they… had  _ any  _ of them paid attention to how Prompto felt? Guilt flooded through Ignis. He'd been so wrapped up in everything else. 

In all that had happened after the news of Insomnia, he'd thrown himself into simply moving  _ forward _ . Keep going onward, keep planning ahead, always think of that next step so that your friends will remain safe. So that the Empire would not destroy them, too. 

And throughout all of it, Prompto had remained seemingly bright and optimistic, joking around, coaxing smiles and laughter from a sullen Noctis, a quiet Gladio. 

A distant, distracted Ignis. 

How much pain was Prompto hiding? How much fear?

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ignis offered. Something he should have asked days, weeks ago. He felt terrible.

The urge to cook something for Prompto, a warm, proper breakfast prepared with fresh ingredients and the correct equipment, swept through Ignis. Something hearty and just a tad spicy and preferably with seasoned rice. His fingers twitched against the table as he entertained the fantasy of commandeering the hotel kitchen.

After a long and thoughtful silence, Prompto spoke, snatching back Ignis’ attention. His voice sounded quiet and hesitant. Not at all like his usual tone.  “So… back home… I had this huge book full of photos from, like,  _ all over _ the world. Everywhere. Gods, I loved that book. It's… kinda what got me into photography.” He gave a small shrug, a simple lift and drop of the shoulders.

Ignis’ heart lifted at the genuine smile slowly blooming on Prompto’s face, chasing away the shadows.  _ Lovely, that smile.  _ He stared past Ignis, eyes growing distant as he lost himself in memories. Though he didn't know if Prompto would even see, Ignis nodded in acknowledgement. 

“There was this one picture… It was  _ beautiful _ ...” Prompto gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He looked up at Ignis and, Astrals, his emotions were so bare and unashamed that it  _ hurt _ . 

Prompto’s voice dropped to a reverent sigh, like he was sharing a secret. “I really wish I would have showed you, Iggy. You would have liked it… I think. These huge mountains in the background, all deep blue and pure white.” Prompto became animated as he spoke, tracing out the landscape with both hands. “And then, like, this  _ vast _ field of purple flowers in front. I had the title memorized, but I'd still read the little caption in the corner every time. ‘Mountain Range with Larkspur’. Seemed like a super boring title. But, I liked the name of the flowers. Larkspur. Kinda… pretty. But sharp, too.”

The flowers on the napkin drew Prompto’s eye, and he smiled at them fondly.

“I wanted to learn more about them, you know? So I Moogled the name and… and I…” His smile grew strained. “I found out they only grow in... N-Niflheim.” His right hand clenched on the table, pulling toward his chest ever so slightly. Ignis almost missed the tiny, absent movement. 

“I felt bad. Couldn't even look at the picture for, like, a whole week.” Prompto swallowed, tracing his finger over a narrow gouge in the table.

“Even so… I still loved that picture. A–and the flowers… they were still beautiful. Knowing where they were from... it couldn’t change that. I tore the page out of the book and hung it next to my bed. Looked at it every night before I went to sleep. To remind myself… Not everything from Niflheim has to be something bad. Th–… there can be good things, too.” Prompto set his jaw and nodded, as if determined to convince himself. “ _ Beautiful _ things.”

When he looked up at Ignis, there was no mistaking the bright, threatening glint of tears. They begged him to understand. Begged him not to judge. 

Ignis’ heart twisted even further. How could he? How could he  _ ever _ ? For such a small thing? For such a rare,  _ wonderful _ thing?

A lopsided grin twisted Prompto’s face as he forced out a chuckle. “Probably shouldn't talk about stuff like that, now, huh? Could get beat up. Surprised you haven't taken me in for treason against the Crown, already.”

Ignis let out an indignant huff. “I would never.” He took a moment to form his thoughts into words. Into something both honest and reassuring. His own eyes sought out Prompto’s, catching and holding his gaze. He spoke carefully. “Having a kind heart and an open mind are hardly grounds for treason. Do not be ashamed of those qualities, Prompto. Not ever. They are in far too short a supply, these days. And… I'll admit that I deeply admire you for having them after all that has happened.” 

With a self-conscious noise, Prompto ducked his head, cheeks flaring. The blue of his eyes fell into shadow under long lashes, bringing out a faint purple hue. 

Ignis’ stared as his breath caught in his throat. Prompto’s eyes… in this lighting, they matched the darker toned petals on the table. As much as he despised the bothersome little wisps, it… it was a lovely shade. Against Prompto’s pale skin, the simple color took on a deep intensity. Ignis smothered a cough behind another napkin, folding it and slipping it into his pocket with quick, smooth movements. Luck was with him; Prompto didn’t notice.

“You… you make it sound like I'm something  _ special. _ ” The last word rode out on a disbelieving laugh.

Something fluttery and nervous and impossibly fond danced in Ignis’ chest.  _ Because you are. You are so very special. Why would you ever think otherwise? _

Before Ignis could muster the nerve to say it, by the time he had convinced himself that it was a  _ compliment _ and nothing more, Prompto was talking again. Eager to fill the silence and change the subject. Ignis couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. But… perhaps it was for the best. He ran the risk of saying too much and flustering his poor companion even further.

“So... yeah. That's why I was surprised to see these. They only grow in Niflheim. In the warmer mountainy parts, I guess.”

“Seems I've stumbled upon a rarity, then,” Ignis mused. As he stared at the petals, his mind turned over the new information. Larkspur. Well, now he could at least pursue  _ something _ specific. But why in the name of Bahamut was he coughing up petals of a plant native to  _ Niflheim _ ? Absurd. This whole ordeal was absolutely absurd. Perhaps the gods were toying with him.

“Yeah. Pretty lucky.” Prompto raised a brow as he appeared to mull over a thought. “Just… don't go tossing it into any recipes. I can't really remember, but I’m  _ pretty _ sure Larkspur might be poisonous. And I mean, I know I'm always saying that I'm  _ dying _ to try one of your new recipes, or that your curry soup is  _ killer _ . Just don't take it literally, okay?”

Ignis’ eyes must have widened, or his frown deepened, or some other little twitch he’d been unable to conceal, because the grin slid from Prompto’s lips, replaced by a nervous grimace.

“Whoa! Y–you  _ weren’t _ going to use those in a recipe, right? R-right? I mean, you totally would have researched it before doing anything, right?”

“Of course I would have.” The response came automatically, his mind busy preparing a new excuse. “I’d intended to use them in His Majesty’s spell-crafting efforts.”

With a sigh of relief, Prompto sagged in his seat, wiping an arm over his brow. “Phew. Had me scared for a second, there, Iggster.”

A hum of amusement vibrated on Ignis’ tongue as he peered over his glasses. “Although, I may reconsider if you insist upon  _ hanging over the back of your seat  _ while I'm driving.”

“Eheheh….Y–you don’t  _ really _ mean that? Do you? Iggy?”

Ignis raised a brow, fixing Prompto with an aloof grin. “Eager to tempt fate, are we?”

Prompto wrapped his hands around his plate, sliding it toward his chest as he watched Ignis with exaggerated vigilance. Ignis chuckled, leaving his companion to finish his breakfast in peace.

Now that the presence of the petals was resolved, Ignis refolded the napkin and dismissed the bundle into the Armory. He’d deal with it later. As it were, the paper-wrapped clump would seem nothing more than what he’d passed it off as: ingredients for elemancy. Their poisonous properties, however… that little detail troubled him greatly.

Before he could consider his options, Ignis saw Gladio and a half-awake Noctis enter at the fat side of the room. As they both grabbed their breakfast, Ignis gathered his own barely touched meal and rose from his seat with quick, discreet movements. Best not to draw any attention to himself. Neither had noticed where he sat, yet, giving him an advantage if he remained casual.

Into the trash went his barely touched breakfast. The thought of wasting food was not at all pleasant, but he couldn't bring himself to eat more than a nibble. The scent alone made his stomach roll with nausea.  _ The effects of poison, most likely, _ Ignis thought with a shudder. He resolved to eat a better lunch, at least to keep his strength up. And an Antidote, as well.

As he returned to his seat, Prompto watched him carefully with that familiar look of concern . But his companion didn't say anything, for which Ignis was silently grateful. If Gladio had seen the uneaten breakfast, he might have decided to sling Ignis over his shoulder, carrying him back to the hotel bed to rest. Ignis enjoyed being manhandled no more than he appreciated being interrogated. And with Noctis’ own health in question, Ignis would rather not waste precious time lounging in bed. 

With a sigh, Prompto finally began to start on his own breakfast, poking at the flaccid piles of scrambled egg. Ignis grit his teeth against the brief spasm in his stomach and looked away. He really could have cooked them all breakfast this morning. It wouldn't have been much trouble.

“You’re not eating?”

Ignis looked up to see Gladio set his plate down, eyes narrowed. Noctis trailed wordlessly after him, slumping into a seat next to Prompto with a low groan. Dark rings shadowed his eyes, as well. Hopefully today’s search would yield some insight into Noctis’ ailment.  _ Be strong, _ Ignis silently urged his Prince.

“Iggy.”

          “Hmm?” Ignis tore his gaze away from Noctis.

“You eat already?” 

Ignis steepled his hands on the table with a polite nod. “As a matter of fact, I did.” 

For a moment, Prompto looked ready to say something, most likely to blurt out that Ignis had actually tossed most of it. He caught himself before speaking, though, lowering his head to continue eating with an unhappy air.

Ignis returned his attention to Gladio. Molten amber eyes bored into Ignis’ own cool stare, challenging, hoping to intimidate. Not that it would ever work, but still, Gladio always tried. Ignis held his stare, silently daring Gladio to press him further. Finally, the Shield gave a slow nod. 

“Good.” 

Gladio didn't sound entirely convinced, not in Ignis’ opinion, but he let the issue drop. He'd rather not trigger an argument. Especially not in public. 

As Gladio began to eat, silence fell over the table. The only sounds came from the clinking of cutlery and the rapid rhythm of swishing fabric as Prompto bounced a leg under the table. 

_ Nervous, _ Ignis noted. The silence did hold a certain feeling of tension. It didn’t last long, though.

“So, what’s today’s plan?” Gladio asked, pausing in his eating to listen.

Biting back a wince as he pulled himself up into a stiff posture, Ignis adjusted his glasses, thankful for a  _ simple  _ topic _.  _ This was more his element. Clearing his throat, Ignis began to speak. 

“I believe our best option lies in getting a better look at the Disc of Cauthess. If that is indeed the landmark appearing in His Majesty’s visions, then perhaps we may uncover a clue. Something that we overlooked when we first arrived in Lestallum. If all else fails, we may need to venture closer to the Disc, and a better understanding of the terrain would be to our advantage.” At last, a moment in which he didn’t have to force confidence or poise. He held back a smile. There was great comfort in planning. 

“Wait. Does that mean we’re gonna go, like,  _ rock-climbing _ on some holy monument?” Prompto’s eyes lit up as he stood from his seat, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Not if we can find a simple path,” Ignis corrected. “And while we’re visiting in the territory of one of the Astrals, we had best be respectful.”

The words did nothing to deflate Prompto’s enthusiasm. “Still. Titan should be cool with me taking some pictures, right? The Disc probably has some sweet rock formations!”

“Ask him yourself,” Noctis huffed, giving his friend a tired grin.

An oversized smile, heavy with mischief, spread over Prompto’s face. “Sure he’ll be fine with a  _ rockin’ _ photographer like myself takin’ some pics.” His narrow chest swelled with pride. At being a “rocking” photographer, or for making the pun, Ignis couldn’t tell. Both, in all likelihood.

Unable to resist, Ignis joined in. “Of  _ quartz _ .  _ Chalk _ it up to natural talent.”

Noctis smacked a hand against his forehead, leaning back with a loud sigh. “Gods, I don’t need any more headaches,” he groaned.

“Let’s stay on track, here,” Gladio warned. Despite his words, his eyes glittered with amusement. “Let’s hear what else  _ Igneous _ has to say,” he added with a low chuckle.

“ _ Aagh!” _ Noctis groaned, slumping against the table. Prompto giggled with a flash of teeth. The light, bubbling sound sent warmth flooding through Ignis’ chest. Prompto’s enjoyment of puns, especially bad ones, proved an endless delight. That unbridled, gleeful laugh was quite a lovely addition, as well.

“The Outlook should give us a clear view,” Ignis continued, composing himself and guiding the conversation back to practical matters.

“Yeah!  _ And _ we can use those viewer thingies,” Prompto exclaimed, using his hands to mime a pair of binoculars over his eyes.

“Sounds good to me,” Gladio agreed, nodding. “Just so long as we can finish breakfast. Not all of us are speed-eaters.” He threw a side glance at Ignis, but his expression remained kind. 

Ignis let out an indignant sniff. “But of course. Any plan that involves the skipping of breakfast is a hopelessly flawed plan.” At his words, he saw Prompto chew at his lip, his fingers shifting restlessly on the table. If he'd known the casual words would trouble Prompto…  _ Too late to take them back _ .

Ignis frowned and fished his phone out of his pocket, opening a Warkipedia page. Now that his companions were focused on eating their breakfast, he might as well seek more information concerning this Larkspur flower.  _ Larkspur, common name for plants of genus  _ Delphinium.  _ Over 100 species of flowering perennials... _ He scrolled through brief descriptions and blocks of text, finding nothing worthy of note, save for what Prompto had already told him. Larkspur was native to Niflheim. Larkspur was poisonous. 

Swallowing hard, Ignis turned the simple words over in his head. That little detail changed matters quite a bit. As much a he loathed the thought, he might indeed require a physician’s assistance.  _ After you resolve Noctis’ problem. Another day or so, at most. _

Despite the knowledge that a poisonous plant was –  _ somehow –  _ flourishing within his body, he could not allow himself to waver from their mission at the moment. Moreover, he'd rather not risk admittance to a hospital. Aside from financial concerns, the thought of being in one area for too long, vulnerable and at the mercy of strangers, left him far too uncomfortable. If the Empire caught wind of his presence there, it would be all too easy to take him into their custody.  And through him, they would surely lure Noctis. Ignis could not allow that.

For now, he would swiftly administer an Antidote if he felt his strength falter. Perhaps the stronger curative would prove more effective in fighting the odd condition. Remedies were useful for minor issues and basic symptoms, but such catch-alls never had the greatest strength in curing specific ailments.

“Up and at ‘em, Sleeping Beauty,” Gladio teased, ruffling Noctis’ hair as he stood. “Time to head out.”

The Prince gave a heavy sigh, rising slowly from his seat as if he had weights strapped to his limbs. “To the Outlook?” Dark blue eyes shifted toward Ignis. Despite their difference in rank, Noctis still looked to Ignis to make the final decisions. A habit that eventually needed breaking if Noctis were to ever rule as King.

“To the Outlook,” Ignis echoed with a nod, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“To see what we can see!” Prompto sing-songed, leaping to his feet. The young man never fared well in sitting still for too long. Despite the eager spring in his step, though, Prompto hovered near the table until Ignis rose from his seat.

Even as the group disposed of their trash and returned their plates before exiting the hotel, Prompto remained close by.  Watching over him, perhaps? Ignis would rather not be the cause of fuss in any occasion, but there was something about Prompto’s  simple presence at his side… Not demanding, not smothering nor prying… Just  _ there. _ At some point in his life, Ignis had begun to strive to do just that for Prompto. To silently stand by him, offering support when needed. To have his efforts returned stirred an unexpected, albeit  _ spectacular _ feeling.

As they walked side by side into the heavy Lestallum heat, Ignis looked down at Prompto’s hand. At the worn leather of his gloves. The relaxed, natural curl of Prompto’s fingers. How easy would it be to reach out, to wrap those fingers in his own and walk side-by-side, hands linked? Picturing it in his head, it looked natural. Comfortable, even.

Ignis’ mind pressed further, weighing options and outcomes by sheer habit. What would Prompto do? If Ignis reached out ever so slightly and brushed his fingers near Prompto’s, would he take them? Ignis’ heart thundered in his chest. Astrals, even just the thought flustered him. Because, really, he  _ shouldn’t _ . He wanted to, but… 

Ignis curled his fingers into a tight fist, pressing his hand closer to his side. What did he even hope to gain? To make Prompto uncomfortable? To embarrass him? Because those were the most probable outcomes.  _ Are you so vain to assume he would like you?  _

No, Prompto’s tastes in women were... evident.  _ Quite  _ evident. And vocally expressed on a regular basis. And those tastes were unfortunately predictable for a young male. And not at all of a nature that Ignis could ever hope to achieve.

A bitter chuckle threatened to escape, but Ignis caught himself just in time. Why even bother fretting? Prompto’s heart clearly belonged to Cindy, of course. While Ignis greatly respected Cindy as a kindhearted and intelligent young woman capable of working wonders with a simple wrench, Prompto’s avid attention toward her seemed to be directed elsewhere. Directed at her ample chest and hips, to be specific.

           While Ignis prided himself in maintaining a sharp mind and fit body, there were just some things that biology denied him. In the matter of appearance, he couldn’t even hope to compete with her.

           And even if appearance and attraction weren't an issue, there were still practical matters. It wasn’t as if he could even _have_ a relationship. Not right now. Not when he’d already devoted his heart to caring for Noctis. His duty, first and foremost, was to his Prince. To divide his attentions between Prince and… and _lover_ would be fair to neither.  To be forced to choose between the two in a world full of danger and daemons and war? It would be impossible. It would tear him apart.

The feeling broke as Prompto skipped ahead, camera materializing in his hands as he trotted toward whatever had caught his interest. Ignis watched with curiosity as Prompto crouched near the entrance of an alley, twisting his torso sideways to get a better angle of –   _ whatever  _ is _ he looking at? _ Ignis walked past the alley, all thoughts of relationships and duty fading from his mind as his concentration shifted. 

Despite his attempts, Ignis failed to figure out the mystery. He had no time to ask before Prompto scurried off in another direction. Never straying far, he zigzagged down the streets and around people as they passed, stopping every so often amid a flurry of shutter clicks. 

Ignis watched with a private smile. Whatever Prompto documented, they were sure to see later in the evening when the energetic shutterbug showed off his photos of the day. It was always a routine to look forward to.

He turned his attention toward Noctis and Gladio as the two headed down the concrete staircase near the small parking lot and the Outlook. The black paint and chrome of the Regalia shone in the sunlight with silent pride. Save for each other, the Regalia was their last piece of home. It was security and familiarity. For Noctis, it was a connection to his father, filled with memories of riding through the Crown City as an innocent child. Back before responsibility and expectations. 

Ignis himself had come along on quite a few of those rides. The Regalia held fond memories for him, as well. It was a true honor to sit at the wheel. An honor…  _ and often a necessity,  _ Ignis thought with an amused sniff. Not that he minded in the slightest. 

At the sound of rapid footsteps thudding down the stairs, Ignis turned just in time to see Prompto race past, camera clutched to his chest. 

“Oh. Em.  _ Gee _ ! The lighting is  _ awesome  _ today!” he cheered, flinging himself against the concrete guard wall of the Outlook. 

“Didn't you get pictures of the scenery when we got here?” Noctis raised a brow at his friend’s antics.

“Like one’s ever enough for him.” Gladio grinned and aimed a light punch at Prompto’s shoulder. 

“Big guy knows what's up,” Prompto commented, not looking up from his camera as he fiddled with the settings. “Too much is never enough.”

Ignis stopped between Noctis and Prompto, squinting out toward the Disc. It looked no different than the previous days he'd glanced at it.

“See anything?” Prompto chirped, leaning entirely too far over the wall for Ignis’ comfort. One hand held up his camera, another braced against the wall as he stood on tiptoes.  _ Absolutely reckless,  _ Ignis thought, shaking his head with a sigh.

“I see a man with little concern for his own safety,” he scolded. Gripping the collar of Prompto’s vest, he managed to tug his companion back to a sensible distance.

“Should have let him fall. Maybe he'd learn his lesson,” Gladio teased.

“Yeah, but then we'd have to go scrape him off the rocks,” Noctis added, peering down at the cliffside below.

“A rather unpleasant endeavor.” Ignis wandered over to one of the tourists’ binoculars, bending his knees to peer through the eyepieces.

“What a pleasant surprise. Greetings to the young Prince and his most loyal entourage.”

Ignis paused in front of the viewfinder, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. There was no mistaking that dramatic voice. Dread settled like a cold weight, resting low in his stomach. Today was not doing well for his patience. Not at all. He'd need another pot of coffee by the time this little interaction was finished.

Taking a moment, Ignis cleared the distaste from his expression and turned to face their visitor. He kept his hands at his sides, fingers slightly curled to summon his daggers at a moments notice. He saw Gladio shift his weight, narrowing his eyes.

Before them stood none other than the maroon-haired stranger they’d met at Galdin Quay, a pleased grin curling over his lips.

The self-proclaimed man of no consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I have a Tumblr! Sunshineandsnark27. Come find me and chat with me about FFXV, or your favorite fics, or your own fics, or your pets, or whatever. Ask me stuff, yell at me, I don't care.


	7. A Note From the Author

Hello, anyone still reading and waiting for the next chapter. I apologize for taking... ~two months... Life has been a tad crazy. I lost my main income job and my health insurance out of the blue, on the same day. Yeah, fun, fun. So my creative drive kind of died for a bit. Luckily, I have a new job that supports pretty well, I'm being considered for full time, so insurance will hopefully become a thing, and all has become well! I've just been terribly busy learning the ropes. However, I am not abandoning this fic. I am determined to finish it, and am currently working on the next chapter. It is going to be long and crap is going to start hitting the fan, so I hope that makes up for my absence. Again, I am sorry. I don't know if any of my loyal readers are even still willing to read this fic, but I'm going to try my best to get back on track. Thank you all,  
-SunshineAndSnark


	8. Drowning in Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto sits through a long car ride, offers up some coffee, and makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back, my loyal readers. And I thank all of you. I thank you so much for sticking with this little story and for encouraging me to keep going. I would have called it quits if not for you guys. My life is getting back on track, and I am getting back into the writing groove. I hope the length and content of this chapter makes up for my absence. I apologize if my remarks seem short, but I'm just a little eager to finally get this out. And again, thank you. All of you. You guys are the best. ♡
> 
> The song for this chapter is "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", the version sung by T.V. Carpio.

  Chapter 7: Drowning in Confessions

 

Prompto spun around, forgetting about scenery and photos and scoping out the Disc once he heard a familiar voice. Deep and sophisticated like Iggy’s. Only, this one gave him chills. And not in a good way. 

His eyes fell on the strange man from Galdin Quay as he dipped into a sweeping bow, the hem of his jacket brushing the ground with a rustle of shifting fabric. How many layers of clothing were piled under that coat? Prompto tried to count, but quickly lost track of where one layer ended and the other began. Maybe... some things were better left unknown?

“Hey,” Gladio rumbled, squaring his shoulders. The Shield moved to place himself in front of Noctis, staring at the maroon-haired man with guarded suspicion. Ignis followed behind, striding over to Noctis’ side with narrowed eyes. 

“Always such an uptight bunch, you four,” the stranger said in a sympathetic croon. “I hope I’m not interrupting any matters of  _ royal _ importance?” He tilted his head toward Noctis, resting his hands on his hips. Wherever they were under all those clothes.

“Just enjoying the view. If you’ll excuse us,” Ignis responded in a clipped voice. 

          Before Prompto could nod, cries of shock tore through the area as the ground shuddered, sending the people nearby stumbling. Tremors rattled through the concrete and into Prompto's bones, forcing him to his knees as he clenched his chattering teeth. He looked toward the Disc, but couldn't see any change. Still just a giant, cool looking rock. Thing. 

           A pained hiss from Noctis grabbed his attention, and he turned just in time to see his friend’s legs buckle.The Prince dug his shaking fingers into tufts of black hair, gasping. Before Prompto could move, Gladio lunged forward to catch Noctis before he crumpled to the ground.  Prompto stumbled closer with a nervous whine, tripping over his own feet on the unsteady ground. How much longer was Noct going to suffer? Those headaches looked like agony, and he couldn't do a thing to help.

          Relief flooded through him as Ignis crouched at Noctis’ side, sharp green eyes flicking over him in a quick analysis. Prompto inched back, giving him some space. With one hand busy checking Noctis’ pulse, Ignis grabbed the glove from his other hand and pulled it off with his teeth before pressing it against the Prince’s damp brow.

Prompto swallowed and looked away. Something about Iggy’s bare hand and the glove hanging from his teeth made the air feel five times hotter.  _ Gods _ ,  _ come take my temperature _ …   _ And now is really not the time for that, Prompto.   _

A low humming drifted from nearby, and he glanced up to see the “man of no consequence” watching Noctis with a glint in his eye. He almost looked… happy? Prompto frowned. He couldn't place it, but something was off with this guy. Big time. Not just his appearance and the fact that he was still smiling away while Noctis cringed in pain, but something a lot deeper. Something he could feel in his bones. Magnetic and unsettling.

Ignis didn't look too thrilled either. With pursed lips, he helped Noctis to his feet and allowed the Prince to lean on him and Gladio until he regained his balance. Every few seconds, his eyes slid over to the stranger, noting his location with a cool gaze.

Prompto stayed off to the side, chewing his lip as he watched the guy stare at them with open amusement. It wasn't like he could do much to protect Noct, though. Not like Gladio or Iggy. But still…  

“Aren’t nursery rhymes curious things?” the man asked out of nowhere, cocking his head with a lazy air. “Like this one:

 

_ From the deep the Archaean calls, _

_ but on deaf ears the god’s tongue falls _

_ The King made to kneel, _

_ in pain he crawls. _

 

Prompto squinted through the recitation, trying to make sense of the random lines. What did a rhyme have to do with anything? He was ready to chalk it up to the guy being a weirdo, until he heard the mention of a king in pain.

Okay. Just a  _ little _ too coincidental, in his humble opinion. “So how do we keep him on his feet?” Prompto asked, taking a step closer. Yeah, the guy was super creepy, but if he had any ideas on how to stop Noct’s headaches...

“You need only to heed the Archaean’s call,” the man said with a shrug, as if it were obvious. 

“Yeah? And how do we do that?” Gladio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Turning his gaze to the Disc, the man let out a low, thoughtful hum tapping a finger against his chin. “Yes, that is quite the problem now, isn’t it?  _ But _ , luck seems to be on your side today.” He spun to face them with a ridiculous flourish that sent his coat flaring. “I can take you.”

Prompto glanced toward Noctis. His best bud still looked a little unsteady on his feet. Well, that was that. He didn't need any more persuading. Whatever Noctis needed to stop the headaches, he was game. Even if it meant following some overdramatic creepy dude in bad cosplay.

“What do we think?” Noctis asked, turning to draw the group into a small huddle. Prompto glanced over toward the strange man, but he had wandered a few feet away, staring off into the distance once again.

“Not many other options,” Gladio stated with a shrug. “Guy’s weird, but he helped us last time.”

Ignis pursed his lips, looking off toward the Disc as he cleared his throat. “I don't like it, but I must agree with Gladio,” he said with a hoarse sigh. “The Disc isn’t known for its ease of access.”

Prompto nodded. At least they all seemed to share the same opinion. “So we take a ride?”

“But watch our backs,” Gladio added with a determined nod. 

“Sounds good,” Noctis agreed, stepping away to address the man. “We’re in.”

“Wonderful,” he said, clasping his hands together with a pleased grin. “Now, I'm not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me  _ Ardyn _ .” The man…  _ Ardyn _ , began to walk forward with long, slow strides.

Prompto trotted ahead, bouncing up the small set of concrete stairs leading to the parking lot. He didn’t need to be escorted to their own car. And the faster they got to the Disc, the faster they could help Noctis. He jogged a few feet before slowing down, realizing that his friends weren’t matching his pace. As much as he wanted to get on the road, he really didn't want to leave them with Ardyn. Or to get separated, even in the small Lestallum parking area.

He paused, looking over his shoulder to spot Gladio and Noctis following a few feet behind him. And-- He blinked, scanning the area. Ignis wasn’t with them? It took a moment for Prompto to spot him, swaying as he made his way across the Outlook. Prompto almost turned around and ran to his aid when Ignis doubled over coughing, but Ardyn beat him to it, steadying Ignis with a hand on his shoulder.

Prompto shifted from foot to foot, looking between Ignis and Ardyn. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw Ignis jerk away, grimacing as he straightened his posture. One of his hands hovered near his ribs, and Prompto didn’t miss the look of pain flashing over his face. Ardyn just shrugged, continuing on his way without further concern. 

“Iggy...Seriously, man...” Prompto whimpered quietly, his hands clenching around each other. They had to get Iggy to a doctor, once their trip to the Disc was done. Iggy wasn’t going to like it, but maybe if they asked nicely?

Prompto waited for them to catch up, taking a few halfhearted shots of some spiky tropical plants spilling from the cracks of a nearby planter, his fingers clicking away on autopilot. Probably weren't even framed that well, but he had his eye on other things.

           Eventually, Ignis and Ardyn made their way over, and Ardyn’s eyes flickered toward him as he walked past. The grin on his face, like a predator eyeing its next meal, sent a shiver through Prompto, and he dismissed his camera to trot after them.

The sight of the Regalia eased some of his nerves; their home away from home. As Ignis reached for the driver’s side door, Prompto bounced over to the passenger’s side, ready to assume his usual spot.  _ Gunner gets shotgun _ , _ right next to Iggy, _ he thought with a smile. It dropped at the lazy drawl of Ardyn’s voice, slipping between them like warm, sticky honey. Ignis’ gloves creaked as they tightened around the door handle.

“How about you allow your Prince the honors of driving, hmm?” Ardyn suggested, gesturing toward Noctis.

Ignis sniffed. “His Majesty is hardly fit to drive,” he shot back, not even bothering to look up. 

Ardyn swept closer, the layers of his outfit whispering. It sent frost through Prompto's blood, and for a moment, he swore he heard the hissing of daemons. His hand slid off the door handle as he watched Ardyn from over the hood.

“Ah, but you look tired. Wouldn’t want you to nod off at the wheel.” Ardyn locked eyes with Ignis. Despite the caring words and tone, something sickly sweet swirled behind the burnt gold of his eyes. “I assure you, it’s a long drive, but an easy one. We can go nice and slow for your dear pained Prince. A lovely scenic tour, of sorts.”

Ignis opened his mouth to argue, but Noctis cut him off.

“He’s right, Specs. You look ready to collapse.” Noctis looked his Advisor up and down, crossing his arms over his chest like he was daring Ignis to challenge him.

Ignis furrowed his brow and pursed his lips into a thin line. Prompto knew that look. Ignis dared.

“Your Majesty--”

“Nope. I'm driving.”

“But if--”

“Ignis. Really. I got this.” Noctis nudged him out of the way before opening the door. “Trust me,” he added, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Prompto fidgeted as he watched, chewing his lip. Nothing like arguments between friends to make things super awkward. Especially when it was Noct and Iggy. Sometimes those two acted like they  _ enjoyed _ driving each other crazy. He flashed a wan smile as Noctis pulled his seatbelt over his chest.

“Very well, then,” Ignis said, frowning as he stalked around the car to take a seat behind Prompto. 

Gladio climbed in behind Noctis. His gaze slid toward Ignis, a grin on his lips. “Surprised those legs fit back here.”

Prompto sat up a little straighter, cranking his head over his shoulder. “I can pull the seat up if you want,” he asked with a sheepish laugh.

“No need,” Ignis replied, though the tired sigh in his voice persuaded Prompto to inch the seat forward anyway. He settled back, smiling at Iggy’s quiet “thank you”. He could do with a little exercise in better posture, anyway.

“Relax, Iggy. Noct’ll be fine,” Gladio said. He reached up to give Prompto’s shoulder a shove. “If anything happens, take the wheel, Prompto.”

“A comforting solution,” Ignis deadpanned, staring out the window.

Prompto let out a huff. “Hey, I’m not a bad driver!”

“Not a good one, either,” Noctis mumbled. “Crashed this thing the first time we let you drive it.”

“And went entirely off the road the second time,” Ignis added, shaking his head. 

Prompto gave a sheepish laugh, sinking an inch or so into his seat as if he were melting into the hot leather.” Totally prefer checking out the scenery and wildlife to driving, anyway. I got better things to look at than the road.”

From a few feet away, Ardyn stood next to his own car and waved. An old model painted a gaudy shade of magenta. Somehow, it fit its driver perfectly. The license plate though… “vixen”? Some things:  _ way _ better left unknown.

“Don’t follow too closely, now. She’s an old thing, but I do adore her,” Ardyn crooned. “To see her dented would break my poor heart.”

“You heard him, Noct. No accidents,” Gladio teased.

Noctis scowled into the rearview mirror. “Yeah, yeah. You guys make it seem like I’ve never driven in my life.” With a twist of the keys, the engine purred to life.

“Just don’t fall asleep, and we should be fine,” Prompto chirped, scrolling through the pictures on his camera.

As Noctis backed the car out of its parking space and followed Ardyn onto the road, Gladio leaned forward in his seat, peering at the camera from over Prompto’s shoulder. “Hey, is that one of Ignis?” he asked, tilting his head to get a better look.

Prompto jumped, nearly dropping his camera on the floor.  _ Why _ …? Why did Gladio have to notice him looking at  _ this _ one? He wasn't even looking at it that long. Like, three seconds? Maybe five...

“Um. Y-yeah,” he replied, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He looked down at the screen before tilting it toward Gladio. “From one of the hunts we did back at Hammerhead.”

Gladio smiled, giving a thumbs-up and a wink. “Caught him lookin’ pretty badass. I’d stare, too.”

Ignis snorted, not even looking at them or the picture.

A strained noise crawled it's way from Prompto's throat and he jabbed at the the buttons on his camera, scrolling through the photos. _Iggy,_ _Iggy drinking coffee, Iggy driving… Gods, why did I take so many of Iggy?_ Didn't help that the guy was so damned photogenic. And just gorgeous, in general. He stopped on a random one of Noctis and shoved the camera at Gladio with a huge grin. “This one’s pretty cool, too, huh? It’s Noct. Stabbing… something.”

Gladio just chuckled and shook his head, turning his gaze toward the last few buildings as they flew past.

As the road rolled on beneath them, Prompto settled against his seat and fiddled with the camera settings, looking up every so often to snap a test photo before jabbing at a few more buttons. When he grew bored with that, he stared out the window, watching the distant landmarks draw closer and whisk past. Towering rock formations that spanned the area in impossible arches, long stretches of verdant forest thick enough to block out the sunlight. As much as he wanted to stop for pictures, he didn't speak up; they weren't on a sight-seeing trip. He needed to remember that.

Every so often, his eyes flicked to Noctis. There hadn't been any more tremors, and the Prince didn’t seem too bad. Just drowsy. Nothing new. 

And then Iggy started coughing. Hard. Prompto’s fingers tightened around his camera, his eyes sliding back to Noctis. His hands gripped just as tight on the steering wheel, his eyes dark under furrowed brows. Prompto counted the seconds it took for Iggy to finally stop.

“Ignis.” Noct’s voice cut through the silence, solemn and commanding. Just the sound of it made Prompto sit up straighter, alert for orders.

Noctis stared straight ahead, eyes on the road as he spoke. He didn't even bother to glance at Iggy in the rearview mirror.

“When we get back to Lestallum, we’re taking it easy for a bit. No planning. No stressing.”

Prompto heard Ignis shift in his seat.

“We have already spent enough time in one place. Too much more and we risk drawing the attention of the Empire. There is also the matter of Lady Lunafreya. She is awaiting your arrival in Altissia and--”

“ _ Ignis. _ ”

Noctis’ voice, the voice of his Prince, stopped Ignis cold.

“We’re taking a break. Until you feel better,” Noctis said, his voice more stern than Prompto had ever heard before. Noctis in Royal Mode. “Luna can wait. She’ll understand. We’ll finish this up and lay low for a bit. Give you some time to get better.”

Ignis shook his head, leaning forward in his seat. “I cannot--”

“This isn't a request!” Noctis growled, thumping a hand against the wheel. He didn't say the rest of the words. He didn't have to. It was obvious enough in the way that Ignis fell silent.

It was an order. And Ignis had to obey it, whether he wanted to or not.

“Yes, your Majesty,” came the quiet reply from the backseat. Prompto's eyes drifted up to the mirror, and he saw Ignis bowing his head. In obedience or shame, he couldn't tell. He didn't say another word for the rest of the drive, just looked out the window as the scenery rolled past.

Prompto tapped his fingers against his leg in a quiet beat. He'd never heard Noctis give an actual order before. Not to his friends. Definitely not to Iggy. He glanced over at Noctis and frowned. It was hard to remember that they weren't just Noctis’ buddies; they were members of his Crownsguard, sworn to protect. And obey.  

Eventually, the car fell into a tense silence, broken only by his own occasional humming, the stray comment from Noct or Gladio, and Ignis’ muffled coughing. Noctis remained steady at the wheel, groaning every so often as Ardyn rolled along in front of them at a leisurely pace. 

“Never gonna get there if he doesn't speed up,” Noctis growled under his breath.   

The mood grew more sullen once it became apparent that they would not reach the Disc before nightfall. After detours for lunch and bathroom breaks, a long stall due to the migration of a particularly large Anak herd, and Ardyn’s own slow driving speed, the sun had already begun its descent toward the horizon. Even so, they still had a couple of hours before nightfall.

Ardyn, however, had a different opinion. As they approached a small, dimly lit rest stop, he flashed his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot.

Noctis grumbled as he parked the Regalia near Ardyn’s car. “What's the deal?”

Despite Noctis’ annoyance and his own desire for a speedy trip, Prompto couldn't help a small sigh of relief. He'd been stuck in the car for most of the day, now. One of his legs had gone numb, and he couldn't keep the other still. A nice long stretch didn't sound too bad to him.

“I hope that you're all okay with stopping here for the night?” Ardyn called as he strode over from his car.

“How about getting back on the road and finishing this?” Noctis snipped, staring at Ardyn in open challenge.

Those honeygold eyes narrowed as Ardyn grinned like a parent dealing with an arguing child. “Yes, that would be ideal. But I’m afraid that we still have a ways to go, and we won’t find any other traces of civilization once we approach the Disc.” He looked away from Noctis, turning his gaze to the rest of the group as he rested his hands on his hips. “I don't believe you’d want to trek among unfamiliar terrain in the dark, now, would you?”

With a heavy sigh, Noctis glared off into the distance where the Meteor gave off a bluish glow in the approaching dusk. None of them knew what was out there, lying in wait for them. 

“He has a point,” Ignis admitted with clear reluctance.

Prompto fidgeted in the front seat. “So we're camping. With  _ Ardyn _ ,” he muttered. Could they lock the tent? Or maybe he could just sleep in the car.

“I'll hunt down a Haven,” Gladio grumbled, climbing out of his seat.  

“No need for such a thing.” Ardyn’s voice slipped smoothly between them as he brushed Gladio's words aside with a wave of his hand. “I have never been all that fond of ‘roughing it’, especially with such cozy alternatives at our fingertips,” he purred, gesturing toward a camper parked at the far corner of the rest stop  just beyond the stretch of parking lot.

Gladio crossed his arms as he smirked at the camper. “Yeah? The tent’s free,” he argued.

Ardyn took a step back with an expression of surprise, one hand splayed over his chest. “Oh, you don't have to worry over such small expenses. Stay the night on my dime.”

“How generous of you,” Ignis muttered. Before Ardyn could turn his head at the comment, Ignis erupted into harsh coughing. He heard Noctis grumble as he tried to stifle it without success. “Pardon me,” he ground out between spasms, striding a short distance away. 

“I don't think your friend is in any condition to be wandering through the wilderness, victim to the whims of the elements,” Ardyn cooed, looking over his shoulder.

Prompto glanced over at Ignis, leaning against the far side of a trash bin. He couldn't see his face, but he could hear the wracking coughs. Ardyn was right. No way they could risk camping with Iggy like this. One cold rainstorm could be the final straw for his immune system. 

“Hate to say it, but I think he’s right,” Prompto whispered, leaning close to Gladio. “Besides, all of us crushing together in a tent with  _ him _ ?” Prompto paused to jerk his thumb at Ardyn. “Ain’t gonna happen. Guy’s not exactly  _ compact _ .”

Noctis snickered, shooting a glance at Prompto. “That’s not very nice, Prom. Maybe I should tell him what you just said.”

“That’s-- that’s  _ not _ what I meant, Noct!” Prompto squawked. He swatted at Noctis’ shoulder, but the Prince just chuckled and shoved his flailing hands away. Prompto gave up the battle once he saw Ignis walking back over, his stride quick and confident. His shoulders were hunched, though, his face flushed.

“Prompto says we’re staying here,” Gladio commented, grinning at Ignis.

“Did he?” Ignis asked, raising a brow as he turned his head toward Prompto. 

Prompto jumped, fidgeting under Ignis’ gaze. “No! Or… yeah, but… Not like what I say matters, right?” he said with a chuckle, glancing at Gladio. “I'm just the pleb who's along for the ride.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the grin vanish from Ignis’ face as he shook his head, turning to murmur to Noctis.

Something in Prompto's chest twisted. He'd only been joking. Kind of. And it was true. He was nothing compared to the other guys. But… he hadn't meant to upset Iggy. Now that he thought about it, Iggy had started to frown more and more whenever he joked like that. It wasn't like that when they'd first met, was it? When did his little jabs at himself start to bug the guy so much? And why? They were harmless. Mostly. And  _ true _ .

“Well, might as well make ourselves comfortable,” Noctis grumbled, walking off to the diner. He looked over his shoulder, eyeing Ardyn. When the strange man didn't follow, Prompto could almost see the tension lift from his friend’s shoulders. Instead, Ardyn strode off to disappear into one of the little gas station shops, doing… whatever it was that he did.

Ignis watched the Prince stalk off before turning to Gladio and Prompto with a sigh. “Shall I trust you all to secure your own meals, tonight?”

“Fast food’s fine with me,” Prompto replied, shrugging. “Not feeling up to cooking?”

Ignis shook his head. “I'm afraid not.”

“Probably for the best,” Gladio commented. “Don't want you coughing all over everything.”

The look in Iggy’s eyes glinted cold enough to give Prompto the chills, and he wasn't even the one who said anything. “I would never,” Ignis spat, lifting his nose with clear indignance. “To think you would even suggest such a thing.”

“Whoa, cool it, Iggy! I was just kidding. Six…” Gladio held up his hands as he took a step back, grinning nervously like he’d just poked a sleeping Coeurl. 

Ignis looked even more irked at Gladio’s amused expression, glaring at him as he turned toward the diner. Prompto looked back at Ignis. Should he stay, or follow Gladio? Iggy didn’t look like he really wanted company, so…

“You coming?”

Prompto’s head jerked up and he saw Gladio looking over his shoulder. At first, he thought the big guy was asking him. As he opened his mouth to reply, he noticed that Gladio’s eyes rested on Ignis.

Ignis pushed his glasses up and looked away. “I’ll have to decline, I’m afraid.”

Prompto frowned at the curt dismissal. Iggy had barely touched his breakfast. The same when they stopped for lunch. If he was sick, then he needed to keep his strength up.

He glanced toward the diner, bright lights shining through the smudged windows. It was no five star restaurant, but it was bound to have something nice and simple that wouldn’t upset Iggy’s stomach. Soup and some toast, maybe? He looked up to try to persuade Iggy, but Gladio strode back to stand in front of him, arms crossed as he stared him down. 

Prompto swallowed his suggestion and crept a few steps back. Arguments between Iggy and Gladio were never pretty, and from the stubborn set of Gladio’s shoulders one was definitely brewing.

“Will you?” Gladio challenged with a smirk.

“Do not argue with me, Gladiolus.” Ignis’ eyes narrowed to glittering green slits, his voice low and dangerous. Only Gladio could ever piss him off this quickly.

“I’m not,” Gladio replied with a shrug. “Just looking out for you. You don’t seem too concerned doing it yourself.”

Prompto winced, creeping further backwards before Iggy even responded. As much as he wanted to run after Noctis and take cover at the diner, he didn't want to leave the two alone. Just in case they needed someone to throw a bucket of water on them, or something.

“I am perfectly capable of caring for myself, and for the whole bloody lot of you,” Ignis snapped, practically flashing his teeth. Somehow, he managed to look perfectly prim and composed despite the anger seething from him. Prompto never knew how the hell he did it. 

“Not for long if you don’t even feed yourself!” Gladio took a step closer, holding Ignis’ gaze like he was scolding a child and not the Royal Advisor to the Crown Prince of Lucis. “I’ll give you ten minutes. If your ass isn’t sitting in that diner with at least a bowl of soup, I’ll drag it over myself.”

A thick silence hung in the air between them, and Prompto could almost hear Iggy’s unspoken retort.  _ I dare you to try.  _ Luckily, Iggy didn’t say it. They both knew that Gladio would do it, especially if dared. He couldn't even imagine how Iggy would react to that. On any other day, the scene would have made Prompto laugh. Not today, though. Not with Iggy so riled.

Finally, Ignis sighed, resting a hand across his brow as the fight seemed to rush out of him. “Very well,” he conceded, his voice still bitter. “Just give me a moment.”

Prompto blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like Iggy to give up just like that.

Gladio seemed to feel the same, standing in silence as his amber gaze bored into Ignis like he could break through all of that poise and composure and find out what the heck was going on. 

“Ten minutes, Iggy. Got it?” Gladio said, some of the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “I mean it. Ten minutes, and I'd better see you sitting in that diner getting  _ something  _ in your stomach.”

“Understood,” Ignis responded. Prompto didn't think it was possible to fit so much weariness and exhaustion into a single word. But when didn't Iggy break expectations?

Without another word, Gladio turned and headed toward the diner, striding through the lengthening shadows creeping among the cracks and potholes of the parking lot. Prompto watched him go, letting out a deep breath. It felt like a storm had just blown past. Biting his lip, he cast one last glance at Ignis. As much as he wanted to hang around, to try to get Iggy to cheer up, he looked like he just wanted to be alone. Cold and closed off as he slouched against the side of the caravan, face averted with his arms tight across his chest. He looked so much like the stern, humorless man that Prompto had first met years ago, the one who rarely smiled. Gods, he wanted to make him smile.

He gave a small wave that Ignis didn't see and followed Gladio, sighing as the sound of coughing drifted over the quiet parking lot.

 

The harsh artificial lighting of the diner glared off the windows as Prompto tapped his spoon idly against his bowl. He'd barely even touched his chili since the waitress brought it over. It wasn't like it was  _ bad _ or anything. His mind just wouldn’t stop wandering.

           Noctis shot him a glare and massaged his hand over his brow, wincing. With a quiet apology, Prompto stopped tapping and looked out the window next to their booth. He could almost see the caravan from here, its lights a dim glow at the far corner of the parking lot.

“Don't tell me you're not eating either.”

Prompto jumped, spoon clattering to the table as he tore his eyes from the window. Gladio shook his head with a heavy sigh.

“Huh? No! I'm gonna eat! Two bowls probably won't be enough to satisfy  _ this _ hunger,” he babbled, scooting his bowl closer. “Totally starving over here. See?” Just so Gladio would be happy, he shoved a heavy spoonful of lukewarm chili into his mouth.

Gladio shook his head as Noctis snorted in amusement, dragging a French fry back and forth through a puddle of ketchup. A lazy grin curled across his face as he narrowed his eyes at Prompto, like a cat teasing its prey.

“Starving is right,” he mumbled, resting his chin on his hand, still wearing that knowing grin.

Prompto raised his brows and swallowed. “Um, yeah. Like I said.” 

Noctis didn't elaborate, just popped the fry into his mouth and continued to grin.

Gladio checked his phone. “Few more minutes, then I'm dragging his ass in here,” he announced, glaring out the window. “Get ready to take shelter.”

Noctis’ eyes took on a gleam that Prompto knew too well. The one that meant mischief and dares and getting into trouble.

“Maybe Prompto can lure him over,” he suggested, elbowing Gladio.

The Shield caught Noctis’ eye and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. Prompto gulped, looking from one to the other as he fought the urge to sink down in his seat. Now they both had that look.

“Not a bad idea,” Gladio said a little too slowly. He turned his gaze on Prompto, pinning him with a stare. “But first, you have to answer a question.”

_ What the hell? _ What kind of game was this? It wasn't like he’d even  _ asked _ to go get Iggy. “Um… sure?” His fingers twitched against the table, snatching the napkin from next to his bowl and twisting it in his fingers.

“How long are you planning to wait until you ask Iggy out?”

Prompto’s mouth fell open. No words. Just his brain short-circuiting. Choked squeaks and croaking sounds spilled from his throat as his whole body started to burn up. His face, his chest, his hands. The whole room felt freakish levels of hot and he couldn’t think. All he could do was sit there and stare at Gladio as the words echoed through his head.

_ How long are you planning to wait…? _

If his seat weren’t holding him up, he’d be on the floor, right now.

_ Until you ask Iggy out? _

He wanted to disappear.

How long had he kept this hidden? A few years after graduation? Two years? Two long years and now they’d finally found out? He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a groan.

He wanted to disappear, he wanted to disappear, he wanted to  _ disappear _ .

As much as he wished for it, he was still there. When he opened his eyes, Gladio and Noct still sat in front of him with those wide grins, waiting for an answer.

“I think you broke him,” Noctis said with a chuckle. “Prom? You in there?” He reached across the table to grab Prompto’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake. “Hey. It’s fine. We’ve known for a while.”

Prompto clutched his chest, drawing in a deep breath as his heart tried to beat bruises into his ribs. “How…? H-how did you guys?” It was all he could manage. Too much of his mind was preoccupied with stopping him from fleeing.

Gladio gave a short laugh. “Not like we’re dense. ‘Cept Noct.”

“Hey, just because I nap every so often doesn’t mean I don’t notice things,” Noctis grumbled, shooting a glare at Gladio.

“ _ Every so often, _ huh?” Gladio shook his head, turning his attention back to Prompto. “Anyway, we aren’t dense, and you’re not subtle.”

“What do you mean by that?” Prompto demanded. He twisted his paper napkin harder, tearing off little chunks and nudging them into a pile. They reminded him of the flowers that Iggy was messing with during breakfast. Just not as pretty. 

Noctis groaned as he rolled his eyes. “You’re always looking at him. And it’s not a regular look. Your eyes get all…” He paused to make a vague motion with his hand, trying to find the right word.

“You look like a chick who’s just seen Prince Charming,” Gladio finished. “Trust me, it's one I know.”

Prompto hid his face in his hands, mortified as he tried to hide the stupid blush setting his cheeks on fire. “I think I’m going to die,” he whimpered from between his fingers as he sunk lower in his seat. The worn vinyl groaned against his spine, echoing exactly how he felt.

“All right, all right. I’m done,” Gladio assured. He raised both hands in surrender. “But really, Prom. Sheesh. How long have you had your eye on him?”

Noctis leaned forward, frowning as he narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and you never said  _ anything _ .”

Prompto winced at the accusing tone, dropping the mutilated napkin onto the table.

“Dude, he’s your  _ Advisor. _ And, like… practically your  _ brother _ . It would have been weird! I-I didn’t want to freak you out.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the worn edge of the table until his fingers quivered. “Besides, Iggy’s, like,  _ waaay _ out of my league.” 

“How long?” Noctis demanded.

Prompto sighed, closing his eyes. He remembered following Noctis to hang out at his apartment after school. And meeting Ignis there. And being so terrified he could barely speak as narrowed green eyes swept over him in silence, probably judging everything from his dirty, worn out tennis shoes to his scruffy blond hair. He remembered his surprise when he learned that Iggy wasn’t as scary or as stern as he seemed. That he was actually super caring. That he had a good sense of humor. That he was incredibly, quietly kind.

And that he looked beautiful when he laughed.

“Little over a year ago.” Prompto admitted with a sigh, staring down at his chili.

“Damn,” Gladio murmured, his voice taking on a tone of concern. “That long and you haven’t told him anything?”

Prompto chewed his lip. He couldn’t even look up. It just got worse and worse the more they talked. 

“Y-yeah… I’ve… kinda been waiting? To see if he likes me back, you know?” He peeked up from the bowl, eyes shifting between Noctis and Gladio. Gods, he did not want to talk about this. “But I don’t… I don’t think he does. That, or he doesn’t care,” he added with a halfhearted shrug.

Noctis snorted, smacking his palm against the table. “Specs not caring about something? Are you kidding? He couldn’t stop caring if he tried.”

Prompto shook his head. “But you guys said I was obvious. And Iggy...  he notices  _ everything _ .”

Gladio leaned forward, resting his hands on top of the table. “Okay, I’ll let you know a little secret about Ignis.” His voice dropped to a whisper, like Iggy might somehow hear him. “He’s pretty damned sharp, but when it comes to matters of the heart, the guy’s clueless. Completely hopeless.”

“Oh.” Prompto dared to lift his head, looking up at Gladio as that delicate little blossom of hope in his heart sprouted up again. “So, has he ever...  _ been _ with anyone?”

Gladio scoffed and shook his head. “Nope. Had his eye on this one guy for a month or two in college, but never went for him. Pretty sure the guy liked him back, but Iggy was too busy with classes and babysitting Princess over here to notice.”

Noctis scowled, aiming a light punch at Gladio. “How the hell do you know all this? I lived with him and he never said anything.”

“‘Cause you’re just as dense as him when it comes to romance,” Gladio said with a smirk. “He wanted advice from a pro.”

Prompto swallowed, working up his courage as Noctis and Gladio bickered. “Um, has he… h-has he said anything about me?”

His question cut through their playful scuffling and Gladio’s expression softened again.  _ Wonder how often he’s had similar conversations with Iris. _

“If you want the truth? No.” Gladio spoke faster at Prompto’s crestfallen frown. “But we don’t talk like in high school. Iggy’s a lot more confident, now. Does stuff on his own.”

Prompto looked out the window, turning the words over in his head. Iggy ever not being confident? He couldn’t really imagine it. Couldn’t imagine Iggy being nervous and going to Gladio for advice on things. 

“Don’t let it get to you,” Noctis murmured. “Specs cares about you. A lot.”

“He cares about  _ all _ of us,” Prompto mumbled, shaking his head. Everything in him felt deflated. Like he’d ever have a chance catching Ignis’ attention. Guy already had enough stuff on his plate.

Noctis let out a soft growl, his fists clenching. “Not like he cares for  _ you. _ Really, Prom, you should see the look on his face when he sees you walking over to chat while he cooks. Or the little smile he gets when you’re laughing. Hell, he nearly snaps his neck whenever he hears you get hurt in battle.” Noctis leans forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. “And his little recipe notebook? I peeked in it once when he left it out after lunch. He starred all of your favorite stuff.”

“Peeks at you every so often when he’s driving, too,” Gladio added with a huff of laughter. “Makes me want to swat him, Mr. Eyes-On-The-Road.”

Prompto stared down at the table and squeezed his fingers into his palms so they wouldn’t shake while he listened to his friends. Tried to keep the hope from rising too high in his chest. When he spoke, he struggled to keep his voice steady.

“So if all of this is true, do you guys-- do you really think I have a chance with him?”

Gladio and Noctis exchanged a look, silently communicating something that Prompto couldn’t see. Finally, Noctis shrugged.

“You’re not gonna know until you give it a shot,” he said, staring right into Prompto’s eyes with every ounce of royal confidence he possessed. “But I think you two would be pretty good together. You make each other happy.”

Gladio pointed a finger at him from across the table. “Yeah, but  _ you’re _ gonna have to be the one to make the first move. If I know Iggy at all, he won’t do it himself.”

Prompto groaned, almost dropping his head against the table until he remembered the chili sitting in front of him.

“You should tell him. Now. Don't make me order you,” Noctis dared with a grin.

“Like,  _ right _ now?” Prompto asked, eyes widening with horror.

Gladio looked out the window with a thoughtful hum. “He's all alone. Not often you get a chance like that. You should go for it.”

Prompto looked from one of his friends to the other, a dozen protests crowding in his head. “Is now really the best time? He's been kind of… odd, lately.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “He's always odd. And I don't think there're going to be a lot of ‘best times’ to tell him. Not with how things have been going.”

Prompto bounced his foot against the floor. Maybe he could make a run for it? How far could he make it before Gladio tackled him to the floor?

As if sensing his desire to flee, Gladio stood up, levelling his amber gaze at Prompto. “All right, Prom. Iggy’s ten minutes of alone time are up. Either you go out and bring him back here on your arm, or I’ll go out there and tell him myself.” He narrowed his eyes at Prompto with a predatory grin. “And I’ll make sure to  _ embellish _ .”

Prompto slammed his hands down on the table, rattling the dishes and cutlery. “Okay! Okay! I'll go!” He scowled at the two as he slipped out of his seat, his heart already kicking against his chest. “If he stabs me, it's your fault,” he muttered over his shoulder. 

Instead of walking toward the door, he marched up to the counter, digging some change out of his pocket.

“Uh, Prom? Door’s that way,” Noctis called, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Prompto ignored Noctis and murmured to the waitress with a shaky smile, his hands not much better off as he handed over the change. He didn't move until the waitress plunked a Styrofoam cup down on the counter. As he turned back around to walk toward the door, he held the cup up in answer. For anyone else, he’d go with some nice flowers or something. For Iggy? Coffee.

“That a boy,” Gladio cheered, nodding at the cup. “Go get him!”

Prompto ducked his head as several people in the diner looked over at him, attention drawn by the commotion.

The walk toward the door felt like a march to his execution. Maybe he could just sneak off into the dark and hide somewhere. Knowing his luck, he'd get snatched up by something nasty. Or run into Ardyn. 

“Really don't wanna run into him on my own,” he sighed, stepping out of the diner. The dim parking lot stretched out before him, an ocean of concrete and asphalt with the caravan acting as a lighthouse at the far end.  _ Sink or swim… _ He kept his eyes on it as he walked forward, step by step. 

His hands shook around the coffee cup, forcing him to wrap his fingers in a firmer grip, despite the heat seeping through. The last thing he wanted was to hand Iggy a half empty cup because he’d spilled it on the way over. 

As he walked closer to the caravan, he saw Iggy leaning against the side, one long leg crossed over the other and his head tilted back. Either resting or… stargazing? Either way, his position left Prompto staring at the elegant lines of his neck as he crept closer. As his eyes traced over the contours of muscle running alongside Iggy’s throat, his breath caught and he had to stop to get a grip on himself all over again.

“Now or never, Prompto,” he murmured to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Squaring his shoulders and plastering a smile onto his face, he strolled closer and waved a hand over his head. The smile faltered when Iggy failed to notice. Maybe… he was sleeping? Or… or ignoring him…? Prompto paused, biting his lip. Iggy wouldn’t do that, though. But... being alert was his thing. One of these days, he was going to catch Iggy sleeping with his eyes open. Not that it would surprise him.

He stared at Iggy, and for a moment, he remembered doing the same to a lonely, black-haired young Prince. Remembered how terrified he was to even talk to Noctis. How long it took him to get up the courage to even introduce himself. Too long. He’d wasted so much time being a coward; so many years spent alone when he could have been making happy memories with Noct. They both suffered because of his fear.

_ You’re not gonna do the same with Iggy. You’ve waited long enough. No more hiding. _

Prompto clenched his fingers around the cup and brought the smile back to his face, a little more natural this time.

“Hey, Iggster. Stargazing?” he asked, giving another small wave with his free hand as Iggy tilted his head down with a start. His eyes stared wide into Prompto's, and the lights from the caravan illuminated the cool green shade into something alluring and mysterious. Something that made his heart skip a beat. For a second, his mind blanked and all that existed in the world was that perfect shade of green. Like new Spring grass, glistening in the muted morning light. It took a little too long to realize that he was staring at Iggy with his mouth still open.

Ignis seemed to collect himself, too, his expression softening into something even better than wide-eyed surprise. Something relaxed and… and happy? 

“Prompto.” The sound of his own name in that distinct accent always sent a shiver down his spine. “Did Gladio send you in his stead?” A half-smile curled on Iggy’s lips.

Prompto chuckled, scuffing his boot over some loose gravel, watching the chunks tumble over each other. “Yeah, k-kinda. Guess he thought you’d be less likely to rip someone’s head off if it was  _ mine _ .” His voice came out a little too high-pitched, the words coming too fast.  _ Oh, gods, that was too forward. What the hell are you doing? _

Ignis tilted his head, staring as Prompto shifted from foot to foot. That gaze made him want to squirm. Talking with Iggy never made him this nervous. Gods, was this how it was going to be, from now on?

“Umm, so… I brought you this!” he blurted, jerking the coffee cup forward. Luckily, the lid kept the coffee from spilling all over his hand and making him look like even more of a klutz.

Ignis raised a brow, still leaning against the side of the camper. He would have looked pretty relaxed, if it weren’t for the way he bent almost protectively over his ribs. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But Iggy? No way. The guy never showed anything but perfect posture, even when he was relaxing. 

“A peace offering?” Iggy asked with grin.

“Yeah, I guess,” Prompto said, shrugging. “That, and I know how much you love the stuff, and you’ve seemed kind of down lately, and…”  _ Seriously, Prompto. Just give him the coffee. _ He let out a sigh, staring down at his boots with a grimace. He was going to screw this up big time.

Soft, warm leather brushed against his fingers and he peeked up through his lashes to see Iggy take the coffee with a grateful nod.

“Thank you, Prompto. It’s very kind of you.” Iggy smiled, his lips parting just enough to show a glimpse of teeth.

Almost as big of a smile as the one in that photo. The one that changed how he saw Iggy. Two years ago. Two long years of wanting and waiting. Time to put it to an end.

Iggy took a slow sip, his eyes falling shut as he let out a content hum.

Prompto shivered at the sound, unable to look away. Was Iggy even aware of how his voice made some things sound? It took way too much effort not to whimper when Iggy licked his lips after lowering the cup. 

“Is this decaf?” Ignis stared at the lid with a furrowed brow, as if the drink had hissed at him or something.

“Um, yeah. It’s decaf.” Prompto ran a hand through his hair, flashing an oversized grin. “I mean, i-it’s getting kinda late and… well, you could probably use the sleep.”

“Traitor,” Ignis sniffed, lifting his nose. The smile ruined the effect. He took another long sip before pulling away to stare at the cup as if he could analyze every characteristic just by looking. Then again, he probably could. “Did you put sugar in this?”

“Honey, actually… I… I put honey in it.” Prompto looked sideways, focusing on the scratched door handle of the caravan. “And some milk. I-I know you like your coffee black, but--” he paused just long enough to point at his throat. “You’ve been coughing a lot, you know? So y-your throat. It’s probably all sore, and stuff? A-and I… I figured the honey and a bit of milk would help.” He stared harder at the door handle, feeling heat spread across his cheeks. He was babbling. Big time. But he couldn’t stop the words from flooding out.

“M-my mom used to do something like that for me. When I was little? I got sick a lot. Warm milk with honey. It helped.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t look over. Iggy would be watching him with that amused expression and--

“Hmm. Seems the coffee isn’t all that’s sweet.”

           The words were mumbled in a low tone as Iggy gazed at the cup with a fond smile and distant eyes, and Prompto wondered if he even meant to say that out loud.

            “Wh-what?” he croaked, his head jerking up fast enough to risk whiplash. 

             The cup hid most of Ignis’ face as he took another drink. A long one; and Prompto started to wonder if maybe he was just hearing things. It would make more sense than Iggy flirting.  Even so, heat seared across his cheeks at the thought. There was no way Iggy couldn’t see it when he lowered his cup, but he just furrowed his brow with a slight frown.

“My apologies. Was that--? That wasn’t a very good one.” Iggy shook his head, the motion just a little too fast.

Prompto squinted his eyes. It might have just been a trick of the light… It wasn’t. Iggy was blushing. Just a little. But still… Iggy never blushed. Except…  _ Except around you _ , Prompto thought, clenching his fingers to stop the shaking.

“I-Iggy?” He took a step forward, his heart pounding up through his throat, choking off all of his words.

Ignis gazed toward the neon sign above the diner, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he stepped away from the caravan. “I suppose I should follow you back for something to eat,” he mused, starting to walk past. “Before Gladio makes good on his word and-- Prompto?”

Prompto didn’t know why he did it. It’s not like he told himself to. His arm just shot out toward Iggy on its own, his fingers latching just above the other man’s wrist. Prompto's heart threatened to stop when Iggy turned, a look of confusion across his face. Could Iggy feel his hand shaking? 

“C-can we… can we just stay here…? Just for a bit?” Warmth seeped through his glove, and it made it so much more difficult to let go. It felt better than it should, even that small amount of contact. What would it be like to wrap his arms around Iggy? To feel that warmth pressed against him? To be held in return? The thought made his heart clench. He forced himself to look up at Iggy as he waited for an answer.

“Is there something wrong?” Ignis asked softly, raising his brows. He turned toward Prompto, giving his full attention. 

“Um…”  _ Yes. _ “N-no.”  _ Gods, yes, there is. _ “I-I just… I just wanted to--” He trailed off when he looked up at Iggy, at those green eyes watching him so intently, trying to read what was wrong before he said anything. To find out what was wrong so he could fix it. Because that’s what Iggy  _ did _ . That’s what Iggy always did. Only, Prompto wasn’t so sure that this one could be fixed. 

He stopped, taking a deep breath as he released Iggy’s hand. He didn’t want Iggy to feel him shaking. “S-so… There’s this person that I… I really like.” He paused to draw in another breath, like his lungs just couldn't hold enough. He took a moment to glance up at Iggy, and couldn’t help but swallow at the intense look in his eyes. A little too intense for what was supposed to be a casual conversation.

His breath shuddered out of him as he forced himself to continue. “Anyway, they are, like,  _ way _ out of my league. So I don’t know… I mean-- I…”

“Prompto…”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he glanced back up at Iggy. The look on his face, soft and concerned with a tinge of something sad, it made Prompto's heart ache. Like he should comfort Iggy, instead of the other way around.

          “You are entirely too hard on yourself,” Ignis said with a sigh. “You are determined. And kind. And your sense of wonder is unrivaled and a joy to behold. Despite your fears, I believe that you are indeed worthy of the one you desire.”

As Iggy spoke, his smile seemed more strained and the hint of sadness in his eyes grew. Prompto wanted to cry out, to just say what he needed and get it over with. But Iggy was already continuing, his voice solemn despite his efforts at encouragement. 

“I know how you adore Cindy, and I will agree that she is a lovely young woman--”

“It’s you!” Prompto’s voice wavered between a shout and a sob. He grasped at his bangs, hiding his face as his legs threatened to dump him on the ground. The world around them fell quiet at his outburst, the soft background noises of crickets falling into stunned silence. Not a sound in the still evening air, save for his own stuttered breathing. Everything was so still and he couldn’t get enough air and--

“P-pardon?” 

Iggy’s voice slipped through the roaring of Prompto’s thoughts and he dared look up, peeking from between his fingers. Never in the few years that he knew Ignis had he seen the guy look so surprised. If Prompto weren’t so wrapped up in hiding behind his hands and trying not to hyperventilate, he would have snapped a photo. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, dropped his hands to his sides, and forced himself to repeat the words. Slowly, so that Iggy could understand him. Although, he had a feeling that Iggy had heard him just fine the first time.

“I-it’s you… The person I like? It’s… you.” He gave a limp shrug.  _ Yeah, just like me, right? Chasing after someone I have zero chances with. _

Ignis fidgeted with his glasses, the movement drawing Prompto's gaze just in time to see the blush across his cheekbones deepen. He still hadn’t said a single word, and the lack of response weighed hard on Prompto’s nerves.

“I’m sorry, Iggy,” he murmured, grimacing. It wasn’t like he could control how he felt, but still. Now things were probably going to be awkward between them for the rest of the trip. He drew his shoulders in, wishing he could shrink until he just disappeared. he shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have let himself be talked into even hoping.

Ignis heaved a sigh, a look of pain flickering over his face. “You have no need to apologize. Such things cannot be helped.”

Prompto frowned at the tone of Iggy’s voice. He sounded defeated. He’d expected anger or disgust or something like that. Not sorrow.

“Okay? But – I don’t know! You… you look upset…” Prompto admitted, picking at a loose thread on his vest. He began to wind and unwind it around a finger; anything to keep his hands busy.

Ignis opened his mouth, but closed it soon after, saying nothing. He looked off toward the empty road stretching past the diner, his fists clenching.

“Iggy?” Prompto pulled the string tighter around his fingers. He didn’t know how to deal with this… whatever it was. But it was making him even more nervous. He needed Iggy to say something. To give him some kind of response.  _ Anything _ , before his heart punched its way out of his chest.

“The feeling is mutual.”

The string snapped between his fingers as he slowly looked up at Ignis, his eyes widening. “Wh-what?” Did Iggy just--?

Ignis turned his face toward the ground, squeezing his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth. He looked ready to snap, his whole posture tense like on those bad days when he and Noct drove each other up the walls.

Finally, Iggy repeated what he said. He still looked pained, even as he spoke, like someone was forcing the truth from him. “Your feelings… they are mutual. I am…” His eyes flicked back open to stare at his shoes as he plunged a hand through his hair. “I am fond of you, as well.”

Prompto’s heart lifted, even as his mind screamed out a dozen denials. 

“So…” he said slowly, unable to hold back a shy grin. “In Iggy-speak that means?”

Ignis hummed in frustration, and Prompto’s tentative smile fled.

“That-- that I like you, too,” he clarified, his shoulders dropping with the confession.  Prompto bit his lip. “You’re acting like it’s a bad thing,” he ventured with a nervous chuckle, watching Ignis carefully.

“It is.”

The words hit him square in the chest, like one of Iggy’s deadly-sharp lances. Plunged in deep enough to kill. He squinted his eyes as he bit his lip harder. He didn’t want Iggy to see how much that hurt. How those two words devastated him. It shouldn’t hurt. Not this bad. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to rejection. Wasn’t like he hadn’t  _ known _ this would happen. 

So why did it still hurt so bad?

“Oh. Okay.” he tried to sound accepting, like it didn’t really matter. It was fine and he was happy, like always. 

He only sounded defeated. He couldn’t face Iggy, couldn’t even raise his eyes to look at him. His cheeks burned and pressure was starting to build behind his eyes. He took a step backwards, turning toward the safety of the diner. He was an idiot.

“Prompto!”

Ignis’ pleading tone stopped him in his tracks. Iggy didn’t plead. Not even with Noct. Taking a steadying breath, he looked over his shoulder, trying to hold a smile on his face. As much as he wanted to run off into the dark and crawl under a rock, he couldn’t ignore Iggy. Not when he sounded like that.

“Y-yeah?” His voice wavered when he spoke, and he hated it.

Ignis paused, collecting himself before he looked up at Prompto with an earnestness that only he could pull off.

“You are a lovely fellow. Truly. And I… if I could, then I…”

“Then... why don’t you?” Prompto asked, the words falling from his lips before Iggy could finish.

“I cannot allow it,” Ignis ground out.

Prompto shook his head, taking a step back toward Ignis. “But if it’s something that you want… a-and I want it too-” Gods, did he want it...

“Prompto.”

His name had never sounded so cold, so final.

“I have a duty to Noctis. I cannot be distracted. Not while we remain at war. I… do not have time for such things!”

His voice shoved Prompto back a step. “Oh. Yeah. I-I get it.” Of course. Because that's all he was. All he would ever be. A distraction. Maybe having someone like him around was good for Noctis, who just wanted to go to arcades and hang out and pretend he was a normal guy. But not Ignis. He couldn't afford a distraction in his life. 

Even as Prompto spoke words of acceptance, his heart and mind rebelled, screaming at the unfairness of it all.

Iggy liked him.

Iggy  _ liked _ him 

Hadn't Gladio warned him that Iggy would be stubborn? He couldn't just let go, couldn't let it end like this. He'd waited so long to tell him. And knowing that Iggy liked him back? It would be way too awkward. Stuck in the car for hours on end? Stuffed into their tent, each knowing how the other felt? That would be more of a distraction than anything. 

“There’s more to life than your duty.” He didn't even know he was speaking until the words were out, his voice somehow quiet and level despite the storm in his chest. He wouldn't regret them, wouldn't take them back. He lifted his chin and forced his eyes to meet Ignis’, to meet the fire in his gaze without wavering. He wasn’t going to turn tail and run. He wasn’t going to let both of their hearts break. Not without a fight. Even if Iggy didn’t want him… it wasn’t just about that. Not anymore.

“Have you ever done something just for yourself? Something that makes  _ you  _ happy _? _ ” Prompto challenged.

Ignis narrowed his eyes, standing a little straighter. “Excuse me?”

Prompto squared his shoulders. “You never think about what you want. Never.”

“What I  _ want _ is to see Noctis regain his throne. To see all of us safely to Altissia so that Noct may meet with Luna and fulfill his calling as King.”

“Yeah, but… Iggy, that's all just your  _ duty _ . Just doing what you've been told to do… that isn't much of a life,” Prompto argued, shaking his head. Saying it all out loud just made it sound even more sad. 

His sympathy only seemed to frustrate Ignis.

“Who are you to say how my life is to be lived?” he demanded, splinters of ice flashing under the emerald fire in his eyes. “It has not been mine to live the moment Noctis and I met.”

Prompto bit his lip. “Noct wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your happiness like that.”

“Unfortunately, we must all grow accustomed to not getting what we want. Even his Highness.”

“Iggy… You can't--”

“That is enough.” Ignis’ voice cut through Prompto's words. “I’ll not allow you to question the path that I have chosen. My life is dedicated to serving Noctis. Since my childhood, I have stood by him as his Advisor and as his brother, and I will sacrifice those bonds for nothing.”

“But you don't have to! It doesn't have to be one or the other!”

Ignis closed his eyes and shook his head, as if the argument had ended long ago. And maybe it had. “It seems someone of your status cannot grasp the weight of such things.”

The words hit Prompto like a physical slap. Hard enough to make him take a few steps back. They turned his insides cold and brittle. They threatened to shatter and tear him apart as Ignis’ words played through his head.

“Someone… of my status…” he repeated quietly, finally looking away from Ignis. Prompto didn’t know if Iggy had intended his words to hurt, but they did. They hurt worse than anything. He gave a small laugh and tried to force a smile, not knowing what else to do. He’d expected to be turned down, but not insulted. Not like that.

Running a hand through his hair, he looked back at Ignis to see him staring off into the night, cold and closed.

“Y-yeah… Guess you’re right,” he said with a hollow chuckle, his voice shaking as much as his hands. “Dumb pleb like me could never understand stuff like that.” He backed away toward the diner, and even as his voice threatened to break, Ignis didn’t move. Wouldn’t even look at him. He stood with his fists clenched and his face turned toward the shadows, his eyes concealed by the streetlights reflecting off his glasses.

It hurt.

Why did he ever think that he could belong to the world that Noctis and everyone else lived in? He was just their comic relief. A disposable thing to laugh at and play with until they got bored and threw him out.

With one last look toward Ignis, Prompto turned and began to walk alone across the stretch of parking lot. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle Noctis and Gladio when he got back to the diner, but he really didn’t want to be alone. 

“Sorry… for bothering you.” he mumbled as he walked away, not sure if Ignis even heard him.

  
  



	9. Drowning in Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis calms down, contemplates, and receives a diagnosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. This chapter... this chapter... Apologies, my dear readers. This chapter, for some reason, did not want to be written. It did not want to be edited. I have worked on it nearly every day since the last update, and more than once I so dearly desired to call this whole thing quits. But never fear, I am sticking this out to the end. You have all been so encouraging and patient with me, and it has really helped me to pull through... whatever the heck was going on. I thank all of you. Deeply. Every single person who has commented and kudosed and bookmarked: thank you.  
> As for specific story notes, the next chapter is going to be Iggy pov as well. Just as a heads-up. There was never supposed to be a clean alternating pov thing, but it kind of fell into that. Save for next chapter.  
> And as always, a special shout out to my fabulous beta reader and even more fabulous friend, Slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch. Give them a round of applause and all of your adoration for being dragged through this hell chapter, too. They deserve it. Special shout outs to my dearest friends sayura21 and Gizzwhizz, for their assistance as beta readers as well, and for keeping my spirits up while I was struggling. Seriously, you three are the best a writer could ask for.  
> And last but... yeah, least: the theme song for this chapter is "No Light, No Light" by Florence and the Machine.

Chapter 7: Drowning in Diagnosis

 

Ignis abandoned his spot near the caravan with long, hasty strides. All the better to put the whole miserable scene behind him. But no matter how fast he walked, no matter how much distance he put between himself and the caravan, he couldn't escape the echoes of his conversation with Prompto.

_So… There’s this person that I… I really like..._

His breath tore from him, the tickle that had pestered his throat with every scathing word now turning to a clawing ache.

_I-it’s you… The person I like? It’s… you..._

Why? Why was it _him_? Why of all of the bloody people in the world was it him? Yes, he liked Prompto. Quite a bit. And he had for some time now. But he didn't need Prompto to return those feelings. It only made matters more complicated. More painful.

For the both of them.

He would have been happy for things to just continue as they were. To simply be _near_ Prompto, to quietly enjoy his company with all of his longings concealed and controlled. Left unknown.

_I… do not have time for such things!_

But now… Now...

Hard, cracked pavement turned to tufts of thick grass, the blades whispering under his feet as he fled. He didn't stop to hear what it was that they said of him. Likely, nothing pleasant.

He only wanted somewhere to be alone. Somewhere to breathe.

Only... he couldn't breathe. Not at this pace, his lungs already starved before his mad dash from the parking lot. Much as he wanted to run into the night until he collapsed, until his whirling thoughts faded to black, he needed to rest. To think.

He stopped for neither, pushing himself until the caravan was well behind him. Up ahead, he saw the final reaches of the Coernix parking lot lights. That invisible fence between him and what lurked in the growing night.

What he needed most of all was to _apologize_.

But before he could do that, he needed to calm himself. Nothing good would come of speaking to Prompto while he was still so flustered.

Ignis finally slowed to a stumbling halt, the toes of his shoes just brushing the border where the glow of artificial light blurred into shadow. Gasping, he stared into the night beyond the scattering of nearby trees, the darkness thick enough to drown in.

His legs shook, threatening to give out as he walked along the border of light, wandering as he tried to catch his breath. A chill swept over him and he pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders with a frown. With their proximity to the Meteor, the temperature shouldn't be so cold.

_Perhaps Prompto had taken the warmth with him._

“Don't be absurd,” he growled to himself, glaring down at his shoes, still perfectly shined from a day of nothing more than driving. Funny how he felt so exhausted.

A few feet ahead, a crisp silhouette caught his eye, hard lines illuminated by the distant light. An old weathered picnic bench. With a heavy sigh, Ignis shuffled  over, slumping onto the rain-smoothed wood.

Silence. Nothing but the shrill hum of crickets and the breeze to accompany him.

“As it should be…” he murmured, resting his head against the old wood. He coughed, raising his hand to cover his mouth. Instead, he paused, staring at his hand. A Styrofoam cup sat in his grasp. The coffee from Prompto. Empty now, but he had held it this whole time.

“There all along, without you knowing…” he muttered. “How funny.”

He placed the empty coffee cup on the table, running his bare thumb over a tiny set of crescent-shaped indentations along the side. Not from him, his own nails shielded behind the leather of his gloves.

Ignis squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at the tiny marks. Prompto had been nervous. Nervous to speak to him about this. How long had Prompto felt this way? How long had it taken him to get up the courage to confess?

_And you shot him down with the most vicious of words. And here you sit, still aching for him. Nothing resolved._

Would Prompto even accept his apology?

He shuddered, curling in on himself against the chill creeping over his skin and the pain pushing against his ribs.

Their argument… No one had ever questioned his life’s purpose in such a manner. No one. Of course, there was the occasional teasing from Noctis about his zeal toward  duty... But never so frankly. He had been unprepared for that, if he was to be honest.

And from Prompto, of all people. The young man was no pushover, not with things that mattered to him. But rarely was he so openly confrontational.

Ignis tried to bite back another cough, but it slipped out carrying a flutter of petals and a noise similar to a sob. He couldn’t encourage these feelings between them. Much as he longed to do so. Perhaps if they were back home, if they weren’t on the run in the midst of war. But not right now. They couldn’t. Not right now…

            He had promised to stand by Noctis, _vowed_ it before King Regis. Growing up, it was all that he had known. He couldn’t… he couldn't divide his attention between them. It wouldn't  be fair, not to either of them.

And if he allowed himself to grow truly attached, what happened when he found himself in a situation requiring him to choose between Prompto and Noctis?

No, even as he tried to imagine it in a hypothetical sense, it wasn’t possible.  It would tear him apart. Noctis was his charge, his _brother_. But Prompto… Prompto was… he--

    A heavy pang shot through his chest, his throat immediately aching with the effort of drawing a breath. Against his desire to curl into a shivering ball, he tried to stand, to straighten his posture and clear his airway.

He didn’t succeed. The world spun, sending him stumbling as his throat finally cleared enough to cough. The bench caught his fall, his hands smacking against solid wood. Ignoring the faint sting in his palms, he used the surface to ease himself to the ground. Dirt and dampness seeped into the knees of his pants, but he barely took notice. He could only kneel there and press his hands to his mouth, counting the seconds until the coughing fit passed.

All the way to the count of ten and still the petals spilled between his fingers as he tried to muffle his coughing. More petals than this morning. Far more.

And he could do nothing.

Couldn't stop the irrational thoughts from hissing in his head that he had made a mess of _everything_. Couldn't stop the pained tears from gathering in his eyes. Couldn't stop the petals from tumbling past his lips in an endless cascade. They drifted to the grass, glowing blue in the moonlight, ghostly frail, like the moths fluttering around the lamp post overhead.

    When it all finally subsided, Ignis knelt with his head hung and arms wrapped tight around his ribs, just trying to catch his breath. He felt he might easily fall apart if he loosened his hold. His throat still seemed clogged, but it felt ready to tear open if he were to cough any more. Tear open and spill every petal out of his shuddering, gasping body.

His labored breathing covered the sound of heavy, uneven footsteps.

“Oh my. Ignis, was it…?”

Ignis’ eyes widened, his heart jumping against sore ribs. He pushed himself to his feet with a slow clumsiness, his lips lifted with distaste.

Ardyn stood before him, brows creased in artificially sweet sympathy; layered on as thick as syrup. Seeing Ignis’ hostile expression, he took a step back, raising empty hands to chest level to show that he was unarmed. Ignis watched him carefully, tracking every movement, every shift in posture. Not all danger came in the form of weaponry. _That_ he knew well.

“Goodness, I’m sorry if I startled you,” Ardyn said, seeming more amused than anything. “Feeling a little jumpy, are we, now?”

“Apologies,” Ignis replied, keeping his voice cool but polite. “I didn't expect to encounter our new ‘acquaintance’ roaming in the dark.”

A look of concern pulled at Ardyn’s face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, well, I was only worried about your well-being. I heard you coughing earlier and couldn’t just leave you stumbling off on your own. Not in such a vulnerable state.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes. Not even in his _sleep_ was he vulnerable. Pity on those who thought otherwise.

Ardyn took a step closer, tilting his head as he rested a hand on his chin. “ _Are_ you feeling well, Ignis? You do look rather pale. And you sound as if you’re on Death’s very doorstep.”

Ignis stood his ground. He would not allow Ardyn the upper hand in this little exchange. He would not. “Your concern is flattering. But I’m quite all right,” he responded, squaring his shoulders. But Astrals, how that hurt. Even such a small thing. He managed to bite back a wince, but only just.

“If you insist,” Ardyn shrugged, letting the matter pass with little concern. He lifted his head, staring at the moon with that strange grin. “Lovely night,” he commented, switching subjects as he had at his mention of Titan and the riddle. Only that instance had been very much directed toward a specific purpose. “Though they seem to be getting longer...”

Ignis didn't respond. Perhaps if he remained silent, Ardyn would eventually go away.

And perhaps garulas would fly.

“The breeze carries the scent of the lovely flora of Duscae.” Ardyn’s continued, eyes flicking back to Ignis. His sympathy shifted into something a touch more predatory, and Ignis couldn't help but feel his shoulders tense.

“ _Or_ could it be the flowers at your feet?” Ardyn stooped down, plucking a single blue-purple petal from the damp grass. Holding it up to the moonlight, he turned it over in his hand before letting the breeze sweep it from his fingers.

Ignis scowled and fought down the urge to sweep the petals away.  If he were more alert and had taken care of them immediately, then he wouldn’t be stuck here while his unwelcome visitor waxed poetic on botany, creeping ever closer to uncovering his peculiar issue. His possibly exploitable weakness.

“Such beautiful things,” Ardyn commented, following its path as it spun to the ground a few feet away. “Curious though, I thought that I saw them falling from your hands while you were coughing.” His eyes flicked back to Ignis, narrowing ever so slightly as his grin curled. “But that would be _ridiculous_ , wouldn't it? Coughing up flowers?” He shook his head. “No, no. But, how silly of me to say such a thing… Must have been a trick of the light.”

    Ignis sniffed, holding his gaze. “So it would seem,” he commented. The less this man knew, the better.

“Oh, Ignis. You really shouldn't hide this one.” Ardyn smirked, shaking his head as if trying to reason with a stubborn child. It set Ignis’ teeth on edge.

“Hide what, exactly?” Ignis growled. It was becoming difficult to hold his composure. He should leave. Stop this unnecessary discussion, return to the camper, and apologize to Prompto.

But Ardyn’s gaze held him, sticky like honey. Sickly-sweet and amused, like he knew something that he was dying to share. His grin never faltered as he spoke his next words.

    “You’re in love.”

They shot through Ignis like lightning, paralyzing his thoughts for a terrible instant.

    Not even a question. A _statement_. Like he knew. But how? And he--

Ignis shook his head. He wasn’t in _love_. A strong affection, at most. But not love. Certainly… certainly not love.

“What… does that have to do with any of this?” he demanded, stifling a cough.

Ardyn laughed, resting a hand against his chest. Like it was all too much. “Oh, my dear friend, It has _everything_ to do with this.” His other hand swept out before him, gesturing to the flower petals scattered around Ignis’ feet.

Ignis grit his teeth. He detested this. Detested not knowing what the bloody hell was going on with him. Detested not knowing what the bloody hell Ardyn was talking about, wearing that knowing little smirk of his. Like the Cheshire Cat. Leading him along some strange path with half-formed riddles and vague words. He detested the bloody hell out of this whole situation.

“So, who is it that’s stolen your dear heart? They must be special to catch the eye of someone of such _lofty s_ tatus. You being the Prince’s Royal Advisor, and all.”

Ignis winced, the words cutting deeper than Ardyn could have intended.

_It seems someone of your status cannot grasp the weight of such things._

Those cruel words. They echoed in his chest, mingling with the ache and deepening the bitter taste on his tongue. He deserved it. It was nothing compared to the pain in Prompto’s eyes as he turned away.

“Or maybe I should ask: which one of your _friends_ is it?” Ardyn purred, lifting his brows. “Is it the big muscular one? I suppose I could see the appeal,” he drawled, tapping a finger over his lips as he paced in front of Ignis. “Or has your devotion to the Prince grown into something more? Oh, that would be terribly unfortunate on your part. He is to be married, you know.”

“Enough,” Ignis growled, his stomach turning.

Hazel eyes widened as Ardyn’s face took on a look of delicious glee, even going so far as to clap his hands together.

“ _Oh_ , don’t tell me it’s that silly little blond! The Prince’s Advisor, near royalty himself? How could he ever fall for such a rowdy commoner? No, your standards must be far too high for such a trivial little thing.”

    Ignis swallowed hard, his breaths growing shallow. More labored. His annoyance flaring to a low-burning fury. _Do not react. Give no information, nothing._

But all he could see in his head was Prompto smiling in the front seat of the Regalia, flicking through photos on his camera and trying to show him while he drove. Prompto wrapping his arms around his ribs as he laughed at some silly pun. His hair. His eyes.

Those freckles.

Did it matter if he denied it? He didn't know. Did it matter if Ardyn knew? He couldn’t… he –

Another bout of coughing, his ribs feeling fit to snap. Astrals, help him. It nearly brought him to his knees again, but he couldn't allow that. Not with Ardyn as audience.

And throughout, Ardyn simply watched as he coughed and shuddered. Watched as the petals fell and Ignis’ eyes widened in despair, no longer able to deny his strange condition.

“Well, I think that was answer enough,” Ardyn announced.

          Ignis pressed his fingers into his ribs, the pain too much to deny any longer. He gasped, fighting for the breath to speak. “You know something of this… condition. How? What is it?”

Ardyn let out a huff, tilting his chin down in a pout. “You didn't answer _my_ question, but I suppose the answer is obvious. Just be careful around your little blond beau. He has a few secrets of his own.”

Ignis bared his teeth. How could a stranger know anything that his closest friends didn’t?

“Elaborate. If you would be so kind. _How do you know of this_?” He gestured toward the petals for sake of clarity.

Ardyn heaved a sigh, his voice bored as he answered. “I have travelled these lands and ones you have never even _heard_ of in my years. Long ago, as a healer much like your dear Oracle. I have seen quite the variety of strange maladies.”

“Interesting. I've never heard of you,” Ignis commented with a sniff.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t have.” Ardyn retorted, cocking his head with something bitter leaking into his eyes.

Ignis ignored the comment. He had tired of this man and his riddles and vague comments back in Lestallum. “What connection does this… this _condition_ have with love?” He asked instead. Best to push toward what he truly wished to learn. Gods knew how many times they would venture off track before he obtained the information he needed.

Ardyn flashed a patronizing smile. “It is the cause of your troubles, simple as that. Unrequited love, to be exact. _Denial_.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes, his thumbnail finding the indents from Prompto’s own fingers on the coffee cup, slipping easily into one of the grooves.

“Now, now, don’t look so peeved. You’ve brought this on yourself,” Ardyn shook his head, as if scolding. “You let yourself pine away, your love growing so desperate that now you’re _blossoming_ with it. Like something out of an old romantic poem. So tell me: does your special someone know of your feelings?” Ardyn’s brows raised, eyes lighting in exaggerated realization. _“Or_ , are you too frightened to tell him?”

“These details are of no concern to you,” Ignis grumbled, relinquishing his hold on the coffee cup before he crushed the thing.

“I’m only trying to assist you,” Ardyn huffed. “You see, your unsatisfied love has planted the seeds of this nasty condition.” Golden eyes locked onto Ignis’ as Ardyn’s smile deepened, exposing the tips of his canines. “A fatal condition, at that.”

A shiver ran through Ignis, even as his better sense urged him to stay calm, to not accept all that he heard as fact. “You have my attention. No need to dally,” he snipped, his chest growing tighter. Whether from his condition, or from Ardyn's words, he couldn't tell.

“No need to be pushy,” Ardyn countered with a shrug.

“Well, if this condition is fatal, as you say, then it's reasonable to feel a touch of urgency . So if you would, do continue,”

Ardyn smirked. “Your condition is an old one. A rarity. You have likely had difficulty in finding any appropriate information?”

Ignis gave a grudging nod.

“Well, that is due in part to its rarity, and the other part… its rate of mortality. Cases are dreadfully rare. Survivors... even more so.”

“Then what is the cure?”

Ardyn gave a small chuckle, tilting his head at a lazy angle. “The cure lies in the cause. And the reason why so few survive. You must confess your feelings to the object of your affection.”

Ignis furrowed his brow, his own voice playing through his head.

_Your feelings… they are mutual._

“I did,” he huffs, looking aside. “And nothing has changed.” If anything, he felt worse.

“It must not have gone well, if you’re still coughing up daisies?” Ardyn asked, though his face told all; he knew very well the answer to that.

Ignis’ jaw twitched at the poor attempt at humor. “Or perhaps your information is flawed,” he challenged, arching a brow.

“There's a chance,” Ardyn shrugged. “It _has_ been many years since I last saw it. Although, it won’t do just to offer up a heartfelt confession. You need to receive their love in return. Or your condition will only worsen. Or…” He trailed off, gazing upward. “There was one _other_ requirement that seemed to cause quite some difficulty.”

“And that is?”

Ardyn tilted his head back down, his grin only growing wider as the words slipped out in a slow drawl. “An exchange.”

Ignis swallowed, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. “What… what _manner_ of exchange?” His heart raced, stirring a sickly feeling in his stomach. “Something... more than words?”

“Something a great deal more, my dear friend,” Ardyn said with a chuckle. “Love involves far more than pretty words; it requires _actions_. Give and take. An undeniable sharing of one’s self--”

“I understand!” Ignis barked, now feeling very sick, indeed. “You don’t need to explain.”

Ardyn sniffed, raising his brows. “But, you were so eager for information just a moment ago. What’s the matter? You’re not _embarrassed_ , are you?”

Ignis didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze slid sideways, staring off into the night, into the darkness collecting between the trees until it all became a giant tangled mess of shadows and branches.

An exchange. Did that mean...? Honestly, what was he to do? March back to Prompto and retract all of his words? All of his stubborn refusal? And then what? Beg Prompto to _love_ him? And then… Then came that other requirement.

Ignis shook his head, his fingers digging into his palms. He could never. To place that kind of pressure on Prompto, to demand love for the sake of survival? To engage in-- in intimacy so soon after as a fulfillment of a requirement? Just thinking about it made him feel disgusting.

“And, if I would refuse to pursue these solutions, what then?” Ignis said, turning his gaze back to Ardyn.

Ardyn shook his head, as if amused that Ignis would even consider such a thing. “As I told you. Do listen _carefully_ this time; I am not fond of repeating myself. This ailment is not a kind one.” Ardyn narrowed his eyes, his smile falling ever so slightly. A clear sign of the weight of the situation. “It leaves little chance of survival in its victims. So long as your heart still aches for your dear love, the petals will flourish until they fill your lungs. If suffocation fails to end your suffering, then they will spread to your heart. And from there, you _will_ die.”

Ignis shook his head, his fingers growing numb. “No. There must be an alternative.”

“Denial will only make it worse, you know. It's what got you into this mess in the first place,” Ardyn scolded. “There is only one known alternative, and that is to forsake the one you love. Remove him from your life, never to be seen or remembered again.”

Impossible. That would mean leaving them all. Leaving _Noct_ . Forsaking not only Prompto, but the promise he made to King Regis. He would have nothing in his life. No purpose. He would lose his friends, his _brothers_ , his last shred of home and security. He would be utterly alone.

The only other way: driving Prompto from their group. That option felt no better. They were the closest that Prompto had ever had to a family. To take that away from him...

“No. I-- I can’t. I’ll find a way. Another way,” Ignis growled. “I’ll not surrender to this.” He could overcome it; he only needed to persevere until they reached Altissia. Lady Lunafreya could provide assistance, if not an outright cure. There were other options. There had to be.

“Well then, I wish you luck in your brave endeavors, since that you seem so determined in your continued denial. I have a suspicion that I could argue with you all night and you wouldn't see sense. I had best be on my way, then.” Ardyn said, striding past in a flutter of cloth. He paused, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “At least there will be no shortage of flowers at your funeral,” he said, sauntering toward the parking lot.

Ignis crinkled his nose as he watched Ardyn walk away.  “There will be no funeral,” he spat.

With Ardyn gone, he allowed himself to collapse back onto the bench, shoulders hunched against the pain in his chest, head resting in his hands.

“What a mess...”

The pile of petals still sat between his shoes, glowing a sickly hue in the yellow light of the lamp overhead. He recalled the first time he saw the cursed things, standing outside a caravan at some other distant rest stop a few weeks ago. How much longer until they proliferated enough to drown him? Breathing was already becoming a chore, and the potions were growing less and less effective at bolstering his strength.

Even more troubling, his supplies were running low. He could easily take from their collective stock of curatives or simply channel a portion of magic from Noctis to heal himself, but the Prince would feel it in a second. And the whole lot of them were already on high alert.

Astrals, he wanted to simply curl up and sleep. Anything to stop the wild whirring of thoughts. He let his head drop lower. Perhaps sleeping out here was the preferable option; it wasn't likely that the others would extend any warm welcome to him this evening.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, wondering how he could have better handled his interaction with Prompto. How he could even begin to correct the damage that he’d inflicted? The low hum of his phone vibrating pulled him from his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he fished it from his pocket and checked the screen.

 

Gladio: _Don't know where the hell you are but you better get your ass back here and eat the damned soup we brought you_

 

Ignis didn't bother to reply. Instead, he let the screen blink off from inactivity and dropped his hand to rest limp at his side, his phone heavy in his fingers. With a rough sigh, he forced himself to his feet, his body feeling far heavier than when he had sat down.

That sick feeling rolled in his stomach as he stood, slimy and acidic. His hand strayed to the curative pouch near his hip, fingers already sliding along the flap. One more antidote left. One more to last him until tomorrow. He should save it. Just in case he couldn't find a moment to sneak off to one of the nearby shops before they left in the morning. Although falling asleep in such a state, if his body would even allow him, felt too risky. A small part of him feared the possibility of never waking.

As if sensing his hesitation, his stomach seemed to turn in on itself. Ignis wrapped his other arm over his abdomen and shuddered, plunging his hand into the curative pouch. He sought out the appropriate bottle by touch, the ridged glass tapering to a thinner shape than the rest of his collection of potions and ethers. Before he could stop himself, he pulled the bottle free and crushed it in his hand, shivering as sparks danced over his skin, chasing away the nausea and unease in his guts. For now. It never stayed away for long.

_Speaking of staying away for long…_

Ignis turned his head toward the parking lot. He had best make his way back, before Gladio came after him. Straightening his shoulders, he drew in a careful breath, the air slipping unhindered into his throat, sweeping back out on a sigh. Blessed. Lifting his chin, he risked another quick inhale and strode back onto pavement after placing the coffee cup into a nearby trash can.

It took more effort than it should have, crossing the stretch of parking lot to return to the caravan. But he couldn’t stand out there all night, not with Gladio back on his case. Onward, then. His shoes clicked in rhythm with the nearby cricket song, a pleasant distraction as the distance melted beneath his strides.

Before long, the side of the caravan loomed before him and he stopped, hesitating.

_Just to catch my breath. Just a moment, then…_ Then he would face them. And whatever they wished to say to him.

Gladio's rough voice and the sleepy tones of Noctis drifted from the other side, too low to catch any words. Ignis frowned. He didn't hear Prompto, not in the few minutes that he listened. The absence of that voice between the two others tore a gaping hole in what should have been a familiar, comfortable scene.

Ignis waited, resting a hand against the dusty side of the caravan for support, just barely resisting the urge to lean his aching head against the cool metal. Was Prompto even out there with them, or had he retired early to bed? Neither possibility brought much comfort. Prompto always stayed up as late as himself, sometimes later, playing on his phone. How many nights had Ignis woken at some ungodly hour to the soft glow of Prompto’s phone, the muted tap of fingers on the touch screen?

Although… if Prompto were alone in the caravan, it would be the perfect time to talk things over, to give a proper apology. He couldn't do it in front of Noctis and Gladio. No, that would only embarrass Prompto, and possibly complicate matters. The last thing that he wanted was a third party interjecting every few words.

    Deep, velvety laughter rippled through the still night air, scattering his thoughts. Ignis scowled, eyes flicking to the side as if he could glare right through the caravan.

Ardyn. How lovely.

He could only hope that their concerned “companion” didn’t take it upon himself to disclose the details of his diagnosis. Best to make an appearance now, before damage control was required.

    Another breath, and he forced himself around the caravan, raising a hand in quiet greeting as he strolled into view. His eyes swept over the scene, his arrival unnoticed.

    Gladio and Noctis sat at the scratched, stained plastic table just under the caravan’s awning, their backs facing him as they tapped halfheartedly on their phones. Likely playing a few rounds of King’s Knight.

    And across from them: Prompto. His phone sat in his palm, though he didn’t appear to be playing anything. Nor reading. Mostly just staring at the screen, eyes and mouth downturned.

    Ignis took a step forward, nearly asking if he was well. _Of course he isn’t. You broke his heart less than an hour ago._

    Gravel shifted under his boot, a quiet sound, but Prompto’s eyes flicked up toward him. For a moment, Ignis saw something heavy rippling through those blue depths, something pained. But before he could look for too long, Prompto glanced away, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

    “Ah, _there_ he is!” Ardyn clapped his hands together, sauntering over to the table. “Your dear friends were beginning to worry!”

There was an empty seat next to Prompto, but Ardyn didn't sit. Instead, he rested his hands over the back. Prompto glanced up, but didn't react save for a slight shift away from the man. Something about the close proximity, about Ardyn’s knowledge of his feelings, made Ignis’ stomach turn.

Noctis and Gladio both turned around. Neither appeared very pleased to see him.

“Damn right we were worried!” Noctis snapped, rising from his chair. Even from a few feet away, Ignis saw the storm gathering in his eyes. A look he knew all too well.

Gladio glared with an equally stormy expression, but remained silent and seated. Ignis bit back a heavy sigh. Gladio was sure to take his turn once His Highness was finished.

“What the hell’s been up with you, lately?” Noctis demanded, his fists clenched at his sides. Even though the Prince had to tilt his head back to look at him, something about being on the receiving end of Noctis’ fury left Ignis feeling the smaller of them both.

But he couldn’t allow that to show.

He stood his ground, levelling a cool gaze at Noctis. He was tired. He ached. And he had destroyed his friendship with someone he held dear and was likely dying as he stood there before his friends.

But he would not let any of it show.

“Am I not permitted to take a stroll?” he asked. His voice came out a touch frostier than intended, but on top of all else, he had been subjected to more than his fair share of bickering today.

Noctis crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing to darkened azure slits. It would have been a little more intimidating, had Ignis not witnessed that same pose countless times throughout their childhood. It had lost its effect years ago.

“No. Not when you’re sick and you don’t tell anyone where you are! You were supposed to come back with Prompto!”

Ignis dug his fingers into his palms. “There is no need to yell,” he admonished, keeping his own voice even, tightly controlled.

“I’m not yelling,” Noctis growled, immediately lowering his volume. But the anger remained. “I just wanna know why _you’re_ being an ass, and why Prompto’s all upset.”

“Noct… come on, dude. Just… leave it,” Prompto mumbled, staring at the two with pleading eyes.

“The former does not concern you, and as for the latter… You know why.” Ignis’ voice cut through the air between them. Solemn and final.

Noctis opened his mouth to speak, but must have thought better, turning his head away without a word. For a moment, they all remained in utter silence, the distances between them stretching until the air hung heavy and strained.

Finally, Noctis’ voice broke the silence. Most of his anger seemed to have evaporated in that short instant, leaving his words quiet, resigned. Ignis shivered, recalling a similar tone the day they learned of Insomnia’s fate.

“Yeah. But, still. Why?”

Prompto hunched his shoulders until he appeared to almost fold in on himself, sinking further into his chair. He clutched his phone between his hands like a lifeline, staring at the screen with a blank desperation.

With a heavy sigh, Gladio shook his head and reached out to grab Noctis by the arm. “That’s enough. Iggy made his choice, and that's something we gotta respect.” Amber eyes slid over to Prompto for the briefest moment before returning to the Prince. “Even if you don't like it.”

Ignis allowed his shoulders to fall, aiming a quick nod at Gladio. “My thanks,” he said, though the words felt hollow on his tongue. There was more that needed to be said. To Prompto, specifically. But… Ignis glanced just near Prompto, where Ardyn leaned against the plastic chair, turning his head this way and that as he gazed up at the sky with exaggerated interest. As if he hadn’t been listening to their brief little argument.

    Noctis shook his head, stalking back to his seat without even looking at Ignis. “Can't wait ‘til this damned trip’s over,” he grumbled, kicking one of the table legs.

Ignis ignored the surly mutterings and swept his eyes over the table, trying his best to prevent his gaze from lingering on Prompto. A mostly successful attempt.

Luckily, the small, lidded Styrofoam container  sitting in front of Gladio provided distraction enough. Too squat to be coffee, he noted with a tinge of disappointment. Not that he necessarily needed any more so close to bed, but such a thing had never stopped him before.

Gladio raised a brow as he saw Ignis staring and pushed the container across the table. “Eat,” he commanded, nodding toward one of the empty chairs. Next to Ardyn.

Ignis frowned, walking toward the table to retrieve the container. Eating was fine, but he didn't intend to sit, especially given the company. “And what of being able to make my own decisions?” he asked, trying to pull up a smile.

“You get those rights back when you finish all that,” Gladio stated, shoving the container toward the edge of the table. “All of it.”

Shaking his head With a quiet huff, Ignis strode forward and snatched it up, the contents lukewarm against his fingers. “I suppose I'm not permitted to protest?” he asked, popping the lid. Not that he really wanted to. But he could never resist a bout of playful stubbornness with Gladio.

Ardyn watched, giving a loud sniff of amusement. “Quite the handful, isn't he?”

“A regular pain in the ass,” Noctis groaned.

Prompto’s eyes flicked up from his phone, illuminated by the light reflected from the screen. They darted from Ardyn to Ignis before he finally glanced back down. “Well, he usually takes care of _us_ all the time. So…” he mumbled, trailing off with a sigh. “You know. Fair and square, I guess.”

Ignis looked toward Prompto, but he was already staring at his phone, again. “No, I believe that is a fair assessment,” he murmured, resuming his position against the side of the caravan.  A mirror of when Prompto had approached him. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh as the cool metal pressed against his shoulders. Even without Ardyn hovering nearby, it wouldn't do to sit next to Prompto; he didn't want to cause any discomfort. Any _more_ discomfort.

And from here, he could keep a careful eye on Ardyn. The strange man seemed to have no such reservations about causing discomfort in others, given his close position to Prompto.

Taking a sip from the container - they had failed to supply him with a spoon, though he wasn’t about to make a fuss - Ignis stood quietly and waited for conversation to resume. Which it did not. Prompto continued to stare at his phone, every so often giving a listless tap or scroll. Noctis did much the same, only with a little more emotion. Frustration, namely. And Gladio made himself comfortable leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as if all was normal. The pensive crease between his brows betrayed his unease.

Only Ardyn appeared willing to talk, seemingly bored with the lack of interaction. Ignis narrowed his eyes over the brim of his cup, taking slow sips as Ardyn began to speak, gesturing with every few phrases. Nothing of interest or importance, Ignis noted. Ramblings of his travels and rumors of disappearing daylight, vague mentions of the war and political happenings that were old news to Ignis.

He let his eyes drop shut, exhaustion creeping back over him. He was almost finished with his soup, his stomach finally having decided to accept nourishment. A few more sips, then off to prepare for bed. Tomorrow would be a long day, a trying day, in all likelihood. He opened his eyes and swung his attention to Noctis. He could only hope that his Prince was well-prepared for one hell of a diplomatic meeting with Titan.

A loud sigh drew his attention, and he opened his eyes as Ardyn began to speak.

“Does this little entourage _always_ spend their evenings in such somber silence?” he asked, eyes flicking among his company. For a moment, they lingered on Ignis and he could only hold the stare. But it seemed Ardyn had other targets in mind.

“And you most of all. You appear positively _heartbroken_ ,” Ardyn cooed, leaning closer to Prompto.

Prompto glanced up at his name, leaning away ever so slightly, though Ardyn didn’t take notice. Or, he simply didn't care that he was encroaching upon another’s personal space.

Ignis narrowed his eyes, his lips lifting just enough to expose a hint of bared teeth.

“Where did that bright smile go?” Ardyn reached out to trail his fingers across freckled cheekbones, down the gentle arch of Prompto’s jaw.

Prompto's eyes went wide, light blue ringed in stark white as he jerked away with a visible shudder. A small noise fell from his lips as his gaze darted to Noctis and Gladio, as if asking for help.

Disgust burned through Ignis, curling hot and angry just under his skin. Before he could stop himself, he strode forward with fists clenched, chin raised.

“I’ll ask that you keep your hands to yourself,” he spat. It was hardly a request, though. Even he could hear the demand in his tone. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Ardyn with open warning.

Ardyn gave a half-grin, raising a brow as he took a slow step back, both hands raised. “Oh, seems that I’ve upset your _dear friend,_ ” he pouted, eyes flicking from Prompto to Ignis. “Well, I certainly don't want anyone becoming jealous. I do hope that you both accept my sincerest apologies?”

Ignis glanced toward Prompto just as a furious blush colored his cheeks, the rosy tint almost enough to swallow his freckles. Prompto squeezed his eyes shut, hunching further into himself as if he wanted to disappear. The nervous, uncomfortable posture only fanned the flames of Ignis’ annoyance. As well as his protective drive.

“I would request the same for any of my companions. Do make a better attempt at respecting personal space,” he said, every word thick with frost. “Not everyone tolerates uninvited contact.”

A tense silence fell over the area, all eyes drawn toward Ignis and Ardyn. Neither of them spoke until Ardyn finally tipped his hat and took a sweeping step aside, abandoning his seat next to Prompto.

“Well, my friends, it has been a splendid evening, but I had best retire; tomorrow will be a busy day for all.” Taking a few steps backwards, he swept an arm out over the group. “Try to get a good rest before your meeting with the Archaean, all of you.” As he turned to walk away, he glanced over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Ignis,” he said, his smile curling.

The group watched him go, left in an uncomfortable silence, once again.

“Finally. Thought he’d never leave,” Noctis groaned, leaning back in his chair.

“Guy’s a creep. No doubt about it,” Gladio agreed. His gaze fell on Prompto, but he didn't remark.

Ignis heaved a sigh, tossing his empty soup container into a nearby trashcan. As much as he wanted to sit down next to Prompto, to catch his eye and give him a few reassuring words, he wasn't sure if his efforts would be welcomed. However, Noctis and Gladio seemed entirely unconcerned, and he could only wonder if their lack of remark was purposeful. Well, then...

“Prompto?”

At the sound of his name, Prompto jumped, his eyes still wide from his unpleasant encounter.

“Are you… okay?” Ignis asked, already taking a step forward, ready to crouch down in front of Prompto and give whatever comfort was required. He stopped himself short. It wasn't as if Ardyn had hurt him, but he knew very well how small things could create large ripples for Prompto. Especially when it involved unwanted attention. And on top of their previous argument… Ignis wrung his hands, guilt settling sour in his stomach.

Prompto glanced to the side, but didn't lift his head. “Yeah. I’m-- I’m fine.” With a deep breath, he raised his chin a few inches, and their eyes met for the briefest moment. “Thanks, Ignis. For… that,” he said with a shrug, looking down at the table once again.

For a moment, Ignis didn't move, didn't dare smother the flicker of hope lighting in his chest. He would not hope for forgiveness. He would not hope for continued friendship, as much as the thought pained him. He only wished to apologize, to work toward a suitable solution. One that made Prompto happy.

Ignis nodded, his expression softening for just a moment before he shifted his attention to Noctis and Gladio. “I don't enjoy taking the advice of our concerned companion, though I do think that an early night is in my best interest.”

Noctis and Gladio glanced up, nodding their acknowledgement.

“Night, Iggy.”

“I call the bed, Specs. Don’t steal it, okay?”

Ignis grinned, sniffing in amusement. “Wouldn’t _dream_ of it,” he replied, pulling open the caravan door. “Goodnight.”

 

Teeth brushed and changed into his pajamas, Ignis crawled onto the worn couch crammed against the wall. It was no fancy hotel bed, but to his aching body, it was utter bliss.

Outside, he heard Noctis and Gladio, taunting and arguing. Likely playing cards to pass the time before they came to bed. Noctis giving Gladio a run for his money, no doubt. They would be out there for a while.

There would not be a better time. Muffling a cough behind his hand, he turned on his phone and opened a new message to Prompto.

 

> _Prompto, I would like a moment to speak with you in private, if you would be so kind._

Brief and to the point. Best to save his words for when he needed them, for speaking face-to-face. He could only hope that Prompto accepted the invitation. They needed to talk, now that they had both had a chance to cool down.

And he needed to apologize for his behavior. For his harsh words.

With a heavy sigh, he sat back on the couch and stared at his phone, waiting for the “new message” icon to pop up. Or for Prompto to walk in, tentative steps and an unnecessary apology on his lips. As if he had been the one in the wrong this evening.

Ignis folded his arms over his chest and stared at the floor, instead, his eyes wandering over the faded greenish carpet. The exact shade was difficult to tell, though, given the heavy staining of so many Hunters wandering in and out with their dirty boots.

Beside him, his phone sat in silence. No soft beep or blinking light signalling a notification. Frowning, he double-checked his messages, making sure that it was even sent in the first place.

Sent, indeed. Perhaps Prompto was distracted by the card game? Or his camera. There could be any number of possibilities, really.

He tapped his foot on the floor, not yet having removed his shoes. Dirty carpet, and such.

He could always go out and ask Prompto in person, but he didn’t want to seem demanding. He wanted Prompto to come in of his own accord. And he understood if Prompto _didn’t_. It was just…

Ignis bit his lip, glancing toward the door.

_You’re in love._

Ardyn’s voice wound through his thoughts like poisonous smoke, speaking lies.

Speaking…

It…

It was truth, though, wasn’t it?

He allowed his head to drop back with a small thump as it connected with the wall behind him. The need to cough itched in his throat, but he held it in until his eyes teared up with the effort. The last thing that he wished to see right now where those cursed petals.

Evidence of his feelings. Products of several years of silent pining.

If it was love that he felt toward Prompto, then when had his casual affection grown beyond just that? They had known each other for four years...

Ignis closed his eyes, trying to remember the days when Prompto would follow Noct home from school. How they would burst through the door, laughter ringing through rooms that had remained quiet and somber for so long. Too long. Day after day, Prompto lit up those darkened spaces. Effortlessly.

The same with much of his life, Ignis found. He had never laughed so hard, so often, as when he was with Prompto. Who knew that he would finally find someone with the same shameless penchant for bad puns?

An exhausted sigh slipped from his lips as he pressed the side of his face into his pillow. He would have been happy with just that: simply being near Prompto, listening to him laugh and seeing him smile, sharing in his happiness. Perhaps giving some of his own, if he were lucky.

He didn't need anything else. He didn't need for Prompto to return his feelings. No, that only complicated things. Made the ache in his chest grow, deepen. That old longing burning with renewed intensity. Why was it always so easy to want what one couldn't have?

And now, he needed Prompto to love him.

It was something that he could never ask for. Life or death, he could not place that burden upon Prompto.

No, all he needed was to talk. To set things right between them and resume their simple friendship. As for his condition, he would remedy that on his own.

He squinted one eye open, focusing his blurry gaze on his phone. Lifeless. No blinking notification alert. No soft buzzing vibration. No response.

For another half hour, Ignis waited. His activity came in waves as his alertness ebbed. _Check phone, doze off, awaken, repeat._

But every time, his hope withered more and more. Nothing. As the minutes ticked by, he eventually lost his fight against sleep. Not even the thump of his phone slipping from his limp fingers and falling to the floor roused him.

The narrow stretch of couch was a far cry from last night’s hotel bed. But even with his spine pressed firmly against the back cushion and his limbs tucked secure around himself, it still felt terribly vast with no one else curled up next to him.

  



	10. Drowning in Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis has some breakfast, enjoys another long car ride, and seeks to set things right with Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest, lovely readers: I am terribly sorry about another months long delay in this fic. It's been about a year since I started this. I never intended for writing this to take so long, but it has been a very unkind year. Life kind of slapped me in the face again. Hard. But i am healthy and safe and pushing forward. I thank all of you for your patience in waiting for updates, for your kind reviews and comments, and forr your loyalty in sticking with this story. You are all the reason why I keep writing. Thank you.  
> And a very special thak you to my beloved best friend and beta-reader, slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch! They have stuck with me since the first few chapters, and have made writing this a lot less scary and a lot more fun. A round of applause for my wonderful friend!  
> Now, without further ado...  
> (The song for this chapter is "Flux" by Bloc Party)

 

 

_Hey. Specs._

_…_

_Ignis._

_…_

_Ignis!_

Ignis awoke to a rough shove and a voice hissing in his ear.

“Hey, come on. Wake up.”

Instead of opening his eyes, he squeezed them shut harder, hands clumsily searching for his phone. Astrals, he ached… Where in the name of Shiva was that snooze button?

“Really, Specs. ‘Nuff sleeping in. Time to get up.”

He blinked sleepily, lifting his head ever so slightly from his pillow. His alarm didn't _talk._ And it didn’t sound like Noctis, either.

“Never thought I’d see the day when _I_ have to pull _you_ outta bed.”

Ignis groaned, swallowing against the soreness in his throat. It took far too much effort to peel his face from his pillow, his bangs sticking messy and damp against his brow. He swept them aside with a clumsy brush of his hand, his skin feeling flushed under his fingers. A slight fever. Nothing too extreme, though he would need to monitor it.

Blinking owlishly, he waited until the blur in front of him resolved into Noctis. Still a touch hazy around the edges, but his glasses would fix that. He scanned the area with a frown. Now...where had he placed them?

“Your glasses?” Noctis asked, catching Ignis’ searching gaze. He jerked his head toward the kitchen counter. “I put them over there. You… Umm, you kinda fell asleep with them on. Didn’t want you breaking them.”

Ignis’ frown deepened. Had he? He couldn't remember… “Thank you, Noct,” he murmured, giving him a sincere smile. “I would be quite broken up about it, indeed.”

Noctis smirked, giving an amused snort. “Shattered?”

“In pieces.” He turned his gaze toward the window, the sun peeking through the thin curtains, bright enough to dazzle. Clearly not morning. “You let me sleep in?” He couldn't keep the note of disappointment from his voice. He never slept in. He had a _routine_. One that involved waking before the others and preparing for the day ahead. Not sleeping in until gods knew when. How could he have slept through his alarm?

His mouth drew into a thin line as he stared at Noctis. “You didn’t happen to sabotage my morning alarm, _did you Noct?_ ” he asked, his voice dangerously sweet.

If Noctis were at all intimidated, he didn’t show it. “No? It never went off. According to Gladio. We thought you wanted the rest.”

Ignis sat still as Noctis looked him over with a frown. If his appearance matched his overall feeling of ill health, then his Highness had perfect reason to fret. Though even more troubling was his forgetting to set an alarm.

“What is the time, if I dare ask?” Ignis mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He kept his hand up to hide the wince as he pushed himself upright. The couch gave complaint, as well.

Noctis immediately looked away, shifting his weight.

“Noct…”

“11:00. Or maybe closer to 11:30?”

Ignis paled, nearly falling back onto the couch. 11:30? He couldn’t recall when he had last slept so late. Had he _ever_? It didn’t seem likely.

His distress must have shown clearly, because Noctis cut him off the moment he took in a breath to speak.

“Hey, it’s fine, Specs. We’re gonna visit a _god_. We should all be well-rested, right?”

Ignis sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He had already spent long enough in his makeshift bed; best to get cleaned up and back on the road. “You have a point.” Not one that he necessarily liked, but a point nonetheless.

Ignis straightened his shoulders, clenching his jaw against the ache. Now, if only Noct would stop watching him. It was going to be a long day, and having his every move under observation would only lengthen it.

“What do you even _do_ at 7 am?” the Prince asked, tilting his head.

Ignis sniffed. “Plenty. Peruse the news, make coffee, plan breakfast. I also spend time on attending to personal hygiene. Not all of us like to appear as if we just rolled out of bed.”

“I don’t know. It’s a good look. Gladio pulls it off.”

“Gladio pulls off a great many things. His shirt, mostly. All too frequently, I may add,” Ignis murmured, rubbing a hand over his brow.

Noctis bit his lip against a grin, his brows lifting. “You should tell him yourself. He’s at the diner. Come on, let’s get some breakfast and then get rollin’.”

Ignis glanced toward the bathroom, already shuffling forward. “At least allow me to brush my teeth...” And get into presentable clothing. And, if he was quick enough, he could have time to sweep his bangs up into the usual style.

When he exited the bathroom, Noct was standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, tapping his foot. “There. Done? We can go?”

Ignis followed as Noctis nudged him toward the door with clear impatience. Understandable, though. The longer they dawdled, the longer the Prince suffered his headaches, after all.

As they stepped out of the caravan, blinking in the bright sunlight, Ignis squinted toward the diner.

“And Prompto… Is he there as well?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

Noctis tried to keep a straight face. Ignis could see the obvious effort. Years and years spent growing up beside the Prince had made him an easy read. That, and Noctis had never shown much skill at concealing his emotions. It was all too easy to see the shadow of discomfort in his eyes, his smile falling.

“Yeah. He’s there,” Noctis said, looking downwards, quiet and guarded.

“Oh. And… how is he?” Ignis asked, though he dreaded the answer. Despite Prompto's moment of gratitude after the incident with Ardyn, he hadn’t responded to Ignis’ text. He had stayed up waiting for Prompto, for a chance to apologize and calmly discuss where matters lie between them. Until he finally fell asleep waiting.

Noctis scuffed his boot against the ground, still refusing to look at Ignis. “He’s… himself. Smiling. Trying to act normal, you know? But...”

“We all know better...” Ignis finished with a sigh.

“Yeah… Anyway. Let’s go,” Noctis said, already walking across the stretch of asphalt toward the diner, eager to leave the awkward conversation behind.

Ignis followed, his stomach feeling both too empty and too full. Empty save for nerves and that familiar sickly feeling. It would be wise to administer another antidote soon, though the presence of his companions seemed likely to provide an obstacle.

As they stepped through the doors, the lingering smell of breakfast only made his stomach turn.  Greasy sausage links and eggs sitting cold in their pans. But he had to have something. Today, it was a must. He couldn’t accompany Noctis on a diplomatic mission involving a god without keeping his strength up.

Gladio waved them over from a nearby booth. As they approached, he saw Prompto tucked against the wall, staring out the smudged window. Ignis’ steps slowed, but he caught himself before Noctis could notice him falling behind.

“Hey, look who finally woke up,” Gladio said with a smirk, sliding down to give Ignis room to sit. “Any longer and we were gonna leave without ya.”

Ignis frowned, sitting up a little straighter as he fixed Gladio with a glare. Anything to keep that heavy dread from showing on his face. They wouldn’t leave him behind. He wouldn’t allow them. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said in a cool tone, picking up one of the menus.

“Wouldn't do any good. You _know_ he’d chase after us,” Noct said, elbowing Gladio. “On foot.”

Prompto’s lips lifted in a small, tentative grin, his eyes flicking over to Ignis. There and back to Noctis before he could return eye contact. “Hah… Probably not the best thing. With not feeling good and stuff?”

“Pffft. That wouldn’t stop him,” Gladio said. “He ever tell you about his freshman year finals?”

Ignis cast a searing side-glance at Gladio. “No, I have not. And it doesn’t require telling.”

Prompto’s eyes lit up, latching onto the promise of a story. He licked his lips, hunching down in his seat as he cast a quick glance toward Ignis. “Nope. Haven’t heard that one. But it sounds like I’m going to,” he said, unable to keep the smallest rise of excitement from his voice.

Ignis heaved a sigh, shaking his head. Best to let them have their fun. It was in the past, after all. That, and one of the waitresses had approached to take his and Noct’s orders. A brief but welcome distraction.

“So, day before final exams, and Iggy gets sick. Think it might have been the flu, or something,” Gladio began, folding his arms across the table. Noctis leaned back in his seat, eyes darting to Ignis every so often to gauge his response. But Ignis remained passive, the very picture of nonchalance.

“Yeah. Specs was ready to collapse by the time we wrangled him into bed. Had to pry his textbook out of his hands and threaten to dump all his coffee,” Noctis added.

“The end,” Ignis announced, leaning back in his seat with an air of finality.

Gladio snorted, shooting him a look. “Yeah. Should have been.”

Prompto peeked up, eyes shifting between the two. “What do you mean?”

“He snuck outta bed,” Noctis answered.

Prompto uttered a quiet, disbelieving noise as Noctis went on and Ignis pointedly stared out the window, fascinated by anything save for the story of his past escapade.

“Snuck out of bed and somehow managed to _walk_ the few blocks from the apartment to school. All for some dumb exam,” Noctis said with a huff, rolling his eyes.

At that, Ignis finally looked over, staring down Noctis. “It was freshman year _finals_. If I failed to perform up to standards, I could have very well lost my position as your advisor.”

Noctis shrugged off the comment. “You? Yeah right. You had the position no matter what. My old man wouldn't have had anyone else for the job.”

Prompto sat up a little straighter, looking at Ignis with wide eyes. However, he quickly glanced away the moment that Ignis tried to return the gaze. “So he aced his tests? While he was sick!?”

“Hah. Not quite,” Gladio corrected with a grin. He stared directly at Ignis as he spoke, and his next words came slowly, as if warning of the consequences of pushing one’s self too hard. “He missed the time slot. One of his classmates found him collapsed in the hallway. Probably added a few days to his recovery time with that move.”

Ignis stared out the window, lips pressed together. How embarrassing, that little incident. Though… he didn't remember much save for the aftermath. Only vague snippets of Gladio driving him home and a good half hour’s worth of scolding.

A short pause as the waitress returned with two plates of eggs and bacon, and two steaming mugs. Tea for Noct, coffee for himself. As they both started on their breakfast, Prompto looked toward Gladio.

“ _Soooo?_ What about the test?” he hissed in a stage-whisper.

“Oh, he passed it. Course he did. Professor let him take it once he was back on his feet,” Gladio replied.

Noct glanced up, abandoning his plate long enough to grumble, “Yeah, but he still didn't learn his lesson.”

“Noct...” Ignis growled under his breath, shooting a side-glance at the Prince.

The words didn’t escape Gladio’s notice. “What do ya’ mean? You didn't pull another  stunt like that, did you?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Noctis yawned, propping his cheek in his hand. “Last year. Got a bad fever. Just _had_ to stumble out of bed to try and make me dinner,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “At 2 am.”

Ignis squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks warming. “Wonderful. Lovely, our little story time. Now, if we could please stop sharing at my expense?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Noct glared at him from across the table, a storm starting to swell behind the dark blue of his eyes. “Same old stories, but you never seem to learn from them,” he muttered.

Ignis clenched his jaw. His patience waning already, and the day had barely started. “And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?” he asked.

Noctis shrugged, idly poking his fork at the remainder of his eggs, posture relaxed even as tension simmered in his gaze. “That you never take care of yourself.”

Ignis pursed his lips, biting back a venomous response. He would get nowhere arguing like this. It wouldn't change what he had done or how he planned to approach his current issue. It would only exacerbate the awkward tension growing between them. And right now, the last that they needed was to drive a wedge into their team.

He gazed down at his own plate, half-finished. That was a step, at least. “Something to improve upon,” he replied, keeping his voice neutral.

“Better not try anything like that when we get back to Lestallum. All I’m gonna say,” Noctis stated, his voice level, dangerous. He sounded like his father in that moment. Quiet but confident. The voice of absolute authority.

Their table fell silent, Gladio and Prompto looking away, quietly finding ways to busy themselves. Ignis stared down at his plate, that small burst of defiance leaking out of him.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he murmured, bowing his head to Noct for the second time in as many days.

He and Noct finished their breakfast in silence as Gladio flipped through a well-worn book and Prompto tended to his camera. Though Ignis ate slower than Noct, he couldn't deny a small bloom of triumph as he finally laid his fork down on an empty plate. With only a few words exchanged, they paid for their meal and headed for the door.

As they exited the diner, Ardyn strode toward them from the parking lot, swinging his arms in lazy arcs at his sides.

“Ah, there’s the Prince and his loyal entourage. Good morning!” he called with a small wave. “I was beginning to fear that you’d forgotten our errand.”

“Kinda hard to forget when my head won’t stop pounding. Let’s get this over with,” Noctis grumbled, waving his hand toward the Regalia.

Ardyn cocked his head, a smirk on his lips. “Are all of you such late risers?” his gaze rested on Ignis for a moment before sweeping over the rest of their group.

Noctis grumbled, his voice flat and disinterested. “It’s Tuesday. That’s… sleep in day. Right, Ignis?”

Noctis looked toward Ignis, holding his gaze long enough to make clear his intention: to conceal his weakness from a possible foe.

“Indeed it is,” Ignis said, nodding. Not that Ardyn didn't already know of his illness. Still best to reveal as little as possible. He didn’t trust Ardyn to keep quiet on the matter, and he was quite certain that Noct would dislike a stranger knowing more than they did regarding his health. “And it seemed wise to rest up before our encounter with the Archaean,” he added.

“Well, you all look so eager. Only… you still seem rather tired,” he tutted, raising his brows at Ignis with that mask of concern. “Perhaps you should stay behind?”

Ignis narrowed his eyes, peering over his glasses with a look of pure venom. “I think not,” he murmured, taking a step forward to stand beside Noctis. “My place is at his side, no matter the circumstances. And especially in the face of such an immense undertaking.”

Gladio crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Ignis with a stern gaze. “Yeah, well, much as I hate to admit, guy has a point. Not gonna sugarcoat it, you don’t look good, Iggy. And you’re no use to Noct if you can’t take care of yourself.”

Ignis turned his gaze to Gladio, his fists tightening at his sides. This… exactly as he had feared. He needed to prove that he was fit to remain at Noct’s side. “Wouldn’t you do the same, were our roles reversed?” Ignis demanded.

Before Gladio could answer, Noctis pushed between them. “Whatever. All I want to know is why you’re so concerned with helping us.”

Ardyn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest with a hurt expression. “Must there always be a catch when a fellow traveller offers assistance? You all have a long journey ahead of you.” His gaze flicked to Ignis, his lips curling at the corners. “It would be tragic to see one of you fall before completing your little mission.”

Noctis scowled, catching the direction of Ardyn’s attention. “No one’s gonna fall. Come on. Let’s get going.” He waved toward the Regalia, already striding off.

“Best to get the show on the road,” Ignis mumbled to himself, though his heart wasn’t really in the pun. He trailed after Noctis, trying his best to keep his steps steady and sure, his breathing much the same. Now that he was on his feet, he couldn’t help but feel a touch dizzy. But he would be back in the Regalia soon enough. Sitting in his seat and itching for something to do.

A half hour later saw them sweeping down the roads of Duscae. Any traces of the tentative camaraderie they had briefly shared in the Diner withered even further, evaporating in the glaring sun and rising temperature. The ride stretched on in silence, interrupted only by the sounds of someone shifting, the occasional sigh from Noctis, and the soft digital beeps as Prompto scrolled through his camera. For once, Ignis would have welcomed Prompto’s penchant for abusing the volume dial on the radio. And while his efforts in improvising lyrics could be spotty at best, Prompto did have a lovely singing voice when he tried.

Ignis sat back in his seat, watching the world sweep by. He tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor, just gentle enough to be silent, and pursed his lips.

Nothing to do but sit and try not to cough with every passing minute. Although… He slipped a hand into his jacket, retrieving his notebook. There was one constructive thing that he could do.

Sheets of crisp white paper slipped through his fingers as he flipped past pages of familiar handwriting. His own little diary, his days portrayed in the form of notes and to-do lists and recipes. And now…

Ignis unhooked his pen from the spine of the small notebook, holding the tip poised over a clean page near the back. If his days were truly numbered, if Ardyn were truly the only source of information concerning his strange condition, he needed to take notes. He needed to supply information. Whether he survived or not. He couldn’t simply… couldn’t just _die_ and take all of this knowledge with him. Not when it could be of use to others.

He waited, pen held steady above the paper despite the occasional jolt as the Regalia rolled over a bump or pothole. Astrals help him, he didn’t know quite where to begin, what to even call his condition. Ardyn had not supplied a name. Perhaps it lacked one?

Shaking his head, he skipped a few lines; he would make a fitting title later. For now, he could at least record what he knew. Symptoms and when they manifested. How he had managed them and his levels of success in doing so. The steady increase of petals over the span of time. All that he had learned from Prompto about the Delphinium flower. All that he had learned from Ardyn about his condition’s cause and cure.

Everything. Everything that he knew. And… a final note. A statement that, if he were to perish, then his notes were to be submitted to a scientific journal. Or a medical facility. Or anywhere in which they could be made useful.

Little as he may have recorded, he could not allow such information to be lost. Not if he were to--

“Must be one hell of a recipe you’re scribbling out.”

Ignis jumped, slamming the notebook shut at the sound of Gladio’s voice. A lucky move, given that the Shield was leaning over, trying to peek at his writing. He cleared his throat, though he wasn’t quite able to banish the thick, clogged sensation. Fortunate that his voice remained clear when he spoke.

“Well, there’s little else to do. I’ve been denied the privilege of driving,” Ignis grumbled, tucking the journal into his coat pocket. Safe from prying eyes.

Gladio gave a huff, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t pout. Besides, might be some action coming up soon.” He jerked his head toward Ardyn’s car, pulling to a halt just in front of them. The road turned to gravel, crunching under the tires as Noctis stopped. Before them stood a massive blockade, a familiar structure of grey metal studded with the white and red flags of the Empire.

Ignis sat up straighter, leaning forward to peer through the windshield.

Would they have to fight their way through? Would he be able to manage? They had taken out that other blockade near Leide with ease, but he had been at full fighting capacity then. Could he hold his own in his current condition? It seemed like ages since he had last drawn his daggers.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl from Noctis, his eyes catching on the fabric-swaddled silhouette of Ardyn climbing out of his car.

“What the hell is he doing?” The Prince grumbled, glaring as the strange man raised a hand above his head in a broad, lazy wave.

“Hello, there! It’s me!” His voice drifted back to them as he called up to whoever manned the blockade. “Would you be so kind as to open up?”

They waited in silence as the seconds ticked by, their disbelief growing. And then--

“Whoa. Did that-- actually _work!?_ ” Prompto gasped, staring wide-eyed as the blockade’s gates slid open.

“Looks like it…” Noctis murmured, eyes following the gates with a deepening frown.

Ardyn waved them through with a smile. “On you go, then.”

“Wait. You’re not coming with us?” Prompto exclaimed, nearly standing from his seat. He cast a glance at Noct, a troubled look on his face.

“Yeah, thought you were _guiding_ us and all?” the Prince grumbled, narrowing his eyes as Ardyn sat back in his seat, looking rather comfortable.

“Isn’t it enough that I dropped you off at Titan’s very doorstep? As much as I would _love_ to hold your hands throughout your little journey, I’m afraid I have matters of my own that need attending. Now, do be safe.” With a little wave, he pulled his car into reverse and left them at the open gates of the blockade.

“Don’t know if I should be worried or relieved that he’s gone,” Prompto said with a sigh, slumping down in his seat.

“Guy’s definitely a creep,” Gladio stated. “Probably best that we don’t trust him for too much.”

Ignis nodded, eyes on the unsteady ground ahead. More a rocky hiking trail than a proper road. “I agree. His motivations for assisting us are vague, at best. And his origins...” He paused to gaze up at the blockade, the crimson and white flags of Niflheim flying on either side of the gate. “It would be wise to rely on ourselves, as much as we can.”

“Would be a lot easier if he’d stop following us around,” Noctis mumbled, pulling through the gate.

Ignis’ hands tightened around the edge of his seat as the car bounced and jerked onto the uneven terrain. Though to his credit, Noct maintained a responsible speed, weaving around rocks and potholes as they descended the winding trail down through the Disc. _Seems Noct had paid a great deal more attention during his driving lessons than he had given him credit for._

Prompto winced as the edge of the canyon wall came dangerously close to the side of the car. “Better not scratch her. Cindy’ll have a fit.”

“Yeah, well… bit more focused on not driving over a cliff at the moment,” Noctis grunted, turning the wheel hard to swerve past a deep furrow.

When they at last came to an area too narrow to traverse by car, Ignis relaxed his grip on the edge of his seat. If he hadn't had any grey hairs prior to their little off road adventure, he certainly would now.

“Looks like it’s hiking from here,” Gladio announced, hopping from the car with an eager grin.

Noctis climbed from his seat with noticeably less gusto. “Great. Sweating already.”

Ignis couldn't help but sympathize; already he felt the heat creeping in, sapping his strength. He hadn’t realized just how heavenly that breeze had felt while they were driving.

 _Best to dress for conditions,_ he told himself, shrugging out of his jacket and folding it neatly on his seat. Hopefully, that would help in lowering his temperature. He hesitated for a moment before snatching his notebook and slipping it into his pants pocket. He would rather keep it on his person with all that he had just written.

“Wish we didn’t have to walk,” Noctis grumbled, looking back at the car.

“Not much else we can do,” Gladio said with a shrug, already walking toward a narrow trail. “C’mon. Let’s get going.”

Prompto trotted after, camera in hand. His gaze swung from one canyon wall to the other, catching on the occasional clump of dry, withered scrub.

“Hmmm… was hoping that the Disc would look cooler in person… But up close? Just a bunch of big, boring old rocks,” he sighed, scuffing his boot and kicking up a small puff of dust.

Ignis followed behind, taking slow steps. Though not from fatigue. Not entirely. As they continued onward down the dusty path, he couldn't help but pause to examine the surrounding formations. Some were beginning to appear purposefully carved. And now… arches and columns running along either side. Almost as if…

They turned a bend, skirting around a wall of stone to arrive out in the open. Ahead of them stood what was left of a Royal Tomb, the ruins baking and bleached pale in the harsh sunlight.

“Whaddaya know?” Gladio said, crossing his arms with a grin.

“Hmm. I thought that the architecture looked familiar. But to find a tomb _here_ , of all places?” Ignis mused, his spirits lifting a little at the sight.

“Nice! Now this is what I’m talkin’ about!” Prompto placed his hands flat against Noctis’ shoulders, shoving him forward. “Go get it, Noct!”

The Prince stumbled forward under his friend’s eager pushing, but regained his balance as he stood before the tomb. His friends grew silent, expectant as he reached out a hand toward one of his ancient ancestors.

With a flash of crystalline light, Noctis’ collection of Royal Arms grew by one.

“Well, that was nice ‘n’ easy,” Prompto chirped. He punched a fist in the air as he bounced forward. “Here we come, Titan!”

Noctis cried out, grasping at his head as the ground shook.

Ignis heard it before anything else. A deep groaning of shifting stone, the crack of it breaking beneath them.

“Noct! Get back!” he barked, lunging forward.

Not close enough. The ground shuddered beneath him, their shouts of surprise echoing through the canyon as the stone around the tomb began to crumble.

“ _Noct_!” Ignis squeezed his eyes shut against the dust, lunging forward to grasp Noctis’ wrist as the ground before them gave way. His shoes scrabbled in the loose, rocky soil, the weight nearly dragging him over the edge. He thought he heard an exclamation from Gladio. He thought he heard Prompto nearby, gasping in the dust. But he couldn't focus on any of that.

Noctis was his priority. Only Noctis.

_Only Noctis…_

Sweat dripped into his eyes. He had to keep them pressed shut against the sting. With a pained grunt, he dug his feet into the dirt and hauled Noctis to safety, his tired muscles protesting every second, breath raking through him.

Once he had Noctis on solid ground, he collapsed to his knees, coughing. Too much dust. Too much strain. Gods, did he ache...

He didn't bother to conceal the petals; they were outside, in strange territory. And he cared far more that everyone was safe than for his strange symptom. At the moment, he doubted the others would even notice.

Only, he had yet to hear anything from any of his friends.

“Noct? Prompto? Gladio?” he called out, trying to rise to his feet. But oh, how that little burst of activity had left him breathless, dizzy… Just a moment, then he would stand.

His wiped the sweat from his eyes as Noctis’ voice echoed up to him from a distance. But… that couldn’t be right… Noct was right next to him. He was--

Ignis opened his eyes, squinting through sweat and tears and dust.

Crouched before him…

Was not Noctis. He hadn’t grabbed Noctis’s wrist in his mad scramble.

Ignis gaped, staring dumbfounded as Prompto stared back, blue eyes wild and chest heaving.

“Pr-Prompto?”

This… this couldn’t be. He had grabbed Noctis. He…

His hands began to shake, his gaze going distant as Prompto stared up at him.  

    He had grabbed Prompto. Instead of Noctis. But that meant…

Noctis had fallen.

    Ignis stumbled toward the jagged edge of the cliff, loose stone still crumbling away. He went as close as he dared, falling to his hands and knees to better distribute his weight. Dust coated his gloves, collected on the knees of his pants. But cleanliness be damned, he had abandoned his charge!

    “Noct! Noooct!” His cries bounced off the canyon walls, echoing back to him until there was nothing but his Prince’s name in his ears. He leaned further, fingers grasping the cliff edge, loose dirt shifting. He couldn't see; the dust needed to settle. “Noctis!” The dust and his own yelling finally got the better of him. His shoulders shook with the force of his coughing, his ribs shuddering.

    He was barely aware of the firm grip around his waist until he was dragged away from the edge. Prompto’s voice sounded next to his ear, spilling through his fevered thoughts.

“Ignis! Dude, come on! You’re gonna fall!”

Ignis allowed Prompto to pull him away, the inescapable reality sinking further and further into his thoughts, stealing the strength from his limbs.

“Hey. I’m sure he’s fine, okay?” Prompto said, crouching down. His words were calm, but his eyes told a different story, wide and darting back to the precipice, nervous. “Gladio went after him, like, _right_ after he fell. Think he caught him. A-and if any of us can break a fall…” Prompto trailed off, worrying his lip.

Ignis opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the deep groan of ancient stone shifting, the sound changing into a voice, speaking in some strange, guttural tongue. It rattled through Ignis’ bones, grinding through his skull. _Heavens, was this how Noctis felt in the grip of his headaches?_ He glanced over toward the precipice, eyes falling on a snarling face, on molten, livid eyes.

Prompto gaped, inching backwards a step. “Whoa… th-that’s...”

“Titan,” Ignis finished, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. The Astral was truly awake, now. Ready to accept an audience with Noct. Whether his Highness was ready or not…

He cocked his head, hearing faint voices among the clatter of stray falling pebbles.  He crept toward the edge, careful not to venture too close, this time. Just enough to peer over…

 _There_. Noctis. And Gladio. Standing at the bottom of the cliff. And just beyond: The Archaean...

Ignis stared, fingers curling against the ground, dust gathering in the creases of his gloves. The sight, the sheer _size_ of Titan… Noct and Gladio were nothing more than specks before the god.

“N--” The name died in his throat, cut off by a fit of coughing. He grit his teeth, fighting against the nagging itch and sting, eyes tearing. “Noct! Are you--” he threw his arm over his mouth, the dust and hot air wreaking havoc in his lungs. “Are you all right?” Every word raked up through his throat, his eyes growing damp with the effort.

He saw Noctis wave an arm over his head, his voice drifting upwards, echoing slightly.

“Yeah. We’re good. Gonna try to find a way forward!”

Ignis nodded, even though Noct couldn’t see it. He cleared his throat before answering and brushed a few stray petals from where he crouched, letting them drift off the edge. “We’ll find a way down!” he called, managing to get the last word out before losing his battle and erupting into a coughing fit.

Behind him, Prompto fidgeted, a quiet, distressed noise slipping from him, just audible above the groan and crack of shifting stone and the guttural mutterings of Titan.

Ignis clenched his jaw, pressed his arms to his ribs and waited, bracing against the need to cough. There would be no relief; it would only go on and on if he allowed it to continue. And he could not allow that. He needed to return to Noctis. He needed to help regain control of their situation.

Somehow, he managed to force himself back to his feet, wobbling slightly. He threw an arm out for balance, saw Prompto jerk forward and then stop, eyes wide.

“I’m alright…” he assured, voice rasping. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Just the dust.” Clearer, this time. Lifting his head, he wiped the dirt from his glasses and surveyed their surroundings.

Canyon walls on all sides and no chance of following directly after Noctis, that was certain. There had to be another way downward… They could always backtrack...His gaze swept over a narrow trail, almost concealed among a scattering of boulders. There. It was well worth a try.

“Onward,” he announced, starting toward the trail.

“Little hot for a hike...” Prompto grumbled, aiming a half-hearted kick at a loose stone.

    As if the heat from the Meteor weren’t enough, the sun beat down as they made their way along the winding trail. Prompto followed, staying just an inch or two behind his peripheral vision. Every so often, he heard an uneasy sigh, barely covered by the scuffing sounds of their footsteps and his own occasional coughing. Other than that, silence.

A strange concept with Prompto as one’s company. No idle humming or absent tapping on some surface or another. No whistling or click of a camera shutter.

The longer the quiet stretched on, the more it rubbed at Ignis’ nerves until at last he had to act.

“Everything alright back there?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. He kept his tone quiet, openly concerned. Even so, it did nothing to ease Prompto’s response.

"I’m sorry!” he burst out, his steps shuffling to a halt.

Ignis turned, brows crinkling as he saw Prompto halt, wide-eyed and chest heaving. His hands were clenched at his sides, and Ignis felt sure he saw a hint of a tremor running through them.

    “Why are you sorry?” he prompted, trying to keep his own posture loose and non-confrontational. He hoped that this didn’t concern last night- it was he who owed an apology on that matter. Though a part of him _did_ hope that that was the case. He needed to broach the subject sooner or later. And though he would prefer to do so without feelings of guilt from Prompto providing the impetus, an imperfectly timed discussion was better than no discussion at all.

    Prompto pointed his chin down at his boots, squeezing his eyes shut as if every word pained him. “Because… It should be Noct here with you. And… me… stuck down at the bottom of that slope…”

    Ignis pursed his lips, eyes narrowed as he thought over the words. “How so?” he asked. Best to get a clearer understanding of Prompto’s train of thought.

“Because it should have been Noct! It should have been _him_ that you caught, not me.”

Ah. Ignis shook his head. “So long as both you and Noct are safe... And as for my catching you instead of him, you had no control over the matter,” he stated. “You cannot always blame yourself for the actions of others.”

Prompto hummed in agitation, blue eyes flicking up to catch his gaze. And indeed it did. “And _you_ can't always take responsibility for everything that happens, you know? I got in the way,” he murmured, his voice solemn.

Ignis held his stare in light challenge. “Nor can you,” he retorted. He could only hope that this didn’t turn into another argument. Even now, it felt as if their words referred to more than just this simple incident.

They stood in silence for a moment until, finally, Prompto turned, already inching back down the trail.

“We should get going. Faster we get to Noct the better, right?”

Ignis heaved a sigh, the sound ragged as it left his throat. “Indeed,” he muttered, trudging forward. He already felt a touch lightheaded after yelling himself hoarse on Noct’s name. And a long trek after? He wiped his arm over his brow, damp with sweat. The heat certainly wasn't helping matters, the air dense and difficult to breathe.

Adjusting his glasses, he looked to see Prompto already a short distance ahead, skirting rocks and uneven terrain along their little trail. There was still the matter of his apology. He pursed his lips, increasing his pace as much as he could. More effort than it should have been, but he didn't wish to shout.

It wasn't the most opportune time, but he might not have another. There would be no peace for him until he at least attempted to set things right. He took in a slow breath, the humid air catching in his throat, thick and heavy. He felt fit to pass out from the heat, gravity seeming to pull at his very bones until he threatened to crumple. But if his last breath was given in apology, then so be it.

“Prompto.”

He didn't miss the small flinch in Prompto's shoulders, how he stood up straighter, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. Despite all this, Prompto's expression was one of easy-going camaraderie when he turned to Ignis.

Wide eyes, a nervous licking of the lips. They told a different story.

“Y-yeah? What's up?”

Ignis frowned. He tried his best to soften his own expression, working against the waves of dizziness and exhaustion.

He never wanted to make Prompto upset, to be the cause of that pained look in his eyes. He only wished to make him smile, when he could.

Time to set things right.

“I need to speak with you,” he stated, hating how formal it sounded. But a necessary start. As painful as this conversation might turn out, it needed to be had. If things could return to a semblance of how they had been before, it would be worth it.

Prompto's eyes only grew wider at the request, his fingers finding the ragged hem of his vest and tugging. His gaze darted around, as if looking for a route of escape. Unfortunately, they were closed in.

“U-uh… yeah.” He flashed a wide grin, all teeth and strain. “What’s on your mind? Besides, like, five dozen things at once?” A nervous giggle leaked out after the rushed words and Astrals help him, how he wished to take Prompto's hands in his own, to calm him.

“Last night... ” he said slowly, forcing himself to hold Prompto's gaze. “What I said--"

“Y’know, we… It’s fine!” Prompto blurted. He took a few steps backwards, eyes darting over his shoulder, further down the trail. “We don’t need to talk about--"

“We do.” Ignis narrowed his eyes, his voice sharp with authority. The one that he used when they absolutely _were not_ going after that highly dangerous hunt, handsome reward or not. The one used when, no, they really did need to stop for camp, lest they risk running into a swarm of daemons. The one that stopped every - or at least _most_ \- pranks dead before they began.

The one that he hated using. Especially on Prompto. However…

“We very much need to talk about this,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest. No room for argument.

Prompto ran a hand through his hair, the strands limp and sweaty between his fingers. “You’re gonna use the ‘Ignis Voice’, huh?” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Yes. I am.”

“O-okay.” Prompto swallowed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Well… go ahead… I guess. I- I’m listening,”

Ignis took a deep breath. At least, as deep as he could manage. A deep breath and a moment to center his thoughts. He lifted his eyes to Prompto’s, trying to keep his gaze soft as he looked into bright blue, wide and a touch afraid. Difficult to behold, but he forced himself not to look away. He had put that nervousness there. “Prompto, what I said to you last night… My dismissal of you… To be blunt, it was unreasonably cruel. And in addition: false.”

Prompt looked away, glancing down at his boots. His forced smile grew even more strained as he ruffled a hand through his hair. “Really, Ignis. It’s not a big--”

“It _is_.”

    Prompto looked back up, starting at the sharp tone.

    Ignis shook his head, hands clenched at his sides, breath wheezing. The thick air, the heat… It was becoming difficult to speak, as well. But he must push forward. He must.

    “It is…” he said again, softer this time. “I lost my temper, and I failed to think before I spoke.”

    Prompto scoffed, even as something pained pulled at the corners of his grin. “Ignis? Not thinking? _Not possible._ ”

    “With you, it is,” Ignis said with a sigh, breaking his gaze to stare down at the sun-baked earth. Just like that. How easily the words sprang to his lips, slipping out without his permission.

    Prompto’s fidgeting movements stilled, his brows lifting at the quiet words. But he didn't respond. He only stood there, listening.

Ignis took a breath, biting back a wince. Prompto wavered before him, and he couldn’t tell if it was the heat to blame, or his own vision. But still, he pressed onward. There was more to say.

His next transgression: “I insulted you. I judged you by your upbringing. By mere social position.”

    Prompto bit his lip, leaning his weight on one leg. A little of the nervousness seemed to evaporate from him. “Okay, but not really? You only called me a ‘commoner’. Which is kinda what I _am_ . And you didn’t even say it outright. More like… _hinted_ at it.”

“The damage is inflicted all the same,” Ignis insisted. He wouldn't allow Prompto to tell him otherwise, to make light of this. He had witnessed the pain in his eyes, heard the tremble in his voice as he turned away.

Not that it would stop Prompto from trying. Again, he surprised Ignis with his tenacity.

“Damage? Really, it’s no big deal. Noct always makes jokes about stuff like that,” Prompto waved his hand, as if dismissing the very thought.

“There is a large difference between joking and what I said.”

“Yeah, well… I’ve been called worse,” Prompto admitted with an empty laugh. “Back in school? Being friends with the Prince and all? Kind of painted a big target on my back.”

Ignis sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “Yes, I understand, unfortunately. But that doesn’t mean that you should hear it from ...a friend.” _From someone who_ loves _you._

Prompto shrugged. “Yeah, well I know you didn’t mean it. Okay? So there. We were both all flustered and - let’s be honest - it was a bad time to ask. I should have waited. We’re all stressed, you’re sick.”

“Circumstances aside, I should not have reacted in such a manner. It is my job to remain level-headed in times of strife.”

“Yeah, well… you took a day off. Even you gotta take a day off every once in a while.”

“So quick to forgive…” Ignis murmured, a touch of dismay tingeing his voice. “You don’t have to--”

“Well, I want to. Ignis… I don't _want_ to be mad at you. We’ve all been through a lot… we’re scared. We’re unsure. We’re gonna lash out, say stuff we don't mean. I get it, okay?” He smiled as he looked at Ignis, a little more of that tension slipping away. In his eyes, sincerity and understanding. Forgiveness. “I get it.”

Ignis sighed, eyes dropping for just a moment. He couldn't… Not just like that. Not after he had been so harsh. Even as Prompto stood before him, brushing off his words and offering to forgive and forget, he knew that what he had said would eat at Prompto. He couldn’t allow that. This wasn’t about forgiveness; it was about correcting what he had done wrong. He looked back up at Prompto, determination sparking as he drew himself up straight. “Please, allow me a few final words, then. And _please_ , take them to heart.”

Prompto’s stared, his shoulders drawing up ever so slightly. “O-okay. I’m listening. Let ‘er rip.”

Ignis furrowed his brow, wiping the sweat from his brow. Hotter to the touch than earlier, but he couldn’t concern himself with it at the moment. “I insulted your loyalty to Noct and your position as member of what remains of the Crownsguard. You are… by far, one of the most loyal men that I have known. And I assure you, I have known many.”  

He paused, taking a quick moment to catch his breath. The words scraped against his throat, each one leaving him a little more breathless. But by the gods, he would not stop until he had said all that he needed to say. “You are not of royal status, but that does nothing to diminish your strength of character. You strive, you refuse to give up, or to allow circumstances to hold you back. Noctis is proud to have you at his side. As friend and member of his Crownsguard. And... I am proud, as well. To stand by you as a comrade. And if you will still have me… as your friend.” By the time he finished, he was nearly panting, minute tremors running through his shoulders.

Prompto stared, still as stone. A flood of emotions churned in his eyes, flickered over his face. Each one there and gone before Ignis could truly put his finger on it.

The whole canyon seemed wrapped in silence for that one moment, the land of a god stilled in awaiting their actions.

Finally, Prompto took a deep breath, let it out slowly as his shoulders fell. At his sides, his hands shook. As if he were overwhelmed. As if no one had ever told him of his worth so openly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll still have you. As a friend.” A faint shadow flickered over Prompto’s features for a moment, but he quickly banished it with a smile. A little sad around the edges, but genuine.

A blessed sight. Ignis found his lips curling in a tentative smile of his own.

“So… yeah? You ‘n’ me: friends?” Prompto asked, offering his hand.

Nodding in return, Ignis reached forward for a firm shake, Prompto’s hand fitting perfectly with his. He kept his eyes forward, not daring to glance down, to see just how it looked. Feeling was enough; that warm, firm pressure. Like holding hands.

He knew he shouldn’t fixate on it. Such a brief little interaction. But this would simply be par for the course now, he supposed. Back to watching Prompto from afar, to clinging to the tiniest of interactions, savoring them when he could.

He and Prompto: friends.

Painful as it was, it was better this way. Especially now, with the knowledge that he carried: that it would require far too much from Prompto to cure his condition. Love, and a physical act of proof; things that he could never expect from another. Certainly not without time, and not without being freely given.

He dared look into Prompto’s eyes in the moments before they released their grasp.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice strained as he tried to inject every ounce of sincerity into his words that he could muster. And in a moment of selfishness, tried to say with his gaze what he couldn’t speak.

_I love you._

_I’m sorry._

_I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you._

And then, the moment broke, Prompto blinking, eyes flicking away as his cheeks flushed. His hand retreated to his side, fingers clenching around empty air. “Thanks, Iggy. For all you said…” he murmured, staring down at his boots with a small smile.

A weight lifted from Ignis’ heart at the familiar sound of his nickname. He had never known just how much he adored hearing it from Prompto, how much the cold utterance of just “Ignis” could hurt. Though even as his heart felt lighter, that exhausting weight still dragged on his bones, pulling harder and harder as they stood out in the open sun and heat. Thankfully, it seemed as if their conversation were coming to a close.

He bowed his head. “Thank _you_ , Prompto. For listening. For understanding.” He bit his lip “And please know this: my decision has nothing to do with who you are. It’s just... a matter of our current circumstances.”

Prompto’s eyes lit up, darting away for just a moment as a grin curled over his lips. He clasped his hands behind his back, peeking back up with that shy grin. “So if those ‘current circumstances’ were to change… like, if we took back the throne and did everything that we needed to do… there might be a better chance?”

Ignis swallowed, his throat sticking until he finally had to succumb to a short bout of coughing. It was becoming more difficult to conceal the petals in his hand, to make sure that Prompto didn’t notice when he slipped them into his pocket. And now that Prompto had actually _seen_ the things… They needed to wrap this up. Wrap it up and get back to Noctis.

“Prompto… You shouldn’t waste your time in waiting.” _Especially for something that may never come about_ , he thinks, a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because even if he did overcome this, would they ever reach a point in which he could give Prompto all that he deserved? His undivided attention and care? His world? He didn't think so. Such a life was not his to lead. Simple as that.

“Yeah, well… Not like I have lovestruck crowds tripping over themselves to get to me,” Prompto said with a dry laugh, drawing his attention back.

Ignis muffled a cough, forcing the words out. Their moment of tension and nervousness had passed, but still, his heart galloped in his chest. “Even so, I don’t wish for you to hold yourself back.” _I want you to be happy. Even if it is with another._

Prompto scuffed the toe of his boot in the dust, stuffing his hands into his pocket with a shrug. “Ha. Me? Holding back? Like I know how!” Laughter rang from him, bright and genuine, just like that smile. It bounced off the walls of the canyon as he finally turned around, looking back toward the trail.

Ignis stood, dazed. That laugh bounced off the walls of his chest, ringing through his ribs. It sent heat flushing through him, a strange static feeling creeping through his limbs. He coughed again, the air impossibly thick around him, his movements slowed as he tried to push through it.

“You know? We should probably keep going. Now that we have everything sorted out? We can talk while we walk,” Prompto announced, starting forward.

His voice echoed, distant and strange.

Ignis tried to follow and stumbled, the temperature seeming to soar as his legs failed to cooperate. When he looked up, Prompto wavered before him. So far away… How did he get so far? He took in a shuddering breath, reaching out.

“Prompto…? Need to slow down... Not sure if I...”

He didn’t realize he had spoken, mumbling out Prompto's name again as his legs folded.

The last that he saw was Prompto turning toward him, shock flickering over his face.

His lips moved soundlessly.

His eyes, flashing violet-blue in the flooding darkness. So beautiful. But everything was fading. He didn't want to lose them.

He tried to call out, but he couldn't make the words, couldn't breathe. Darkness was spilling in too thick to fight.

“ _Ignis_!”

His name, a whisper-scream in the distance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I have a Tumblr! Feel free to drop in and interact! Username: sunshineandsnark27


	11. Drowning in Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto practices a little first aid, witnesses the battle between Prince and god, and manages to stay mostly calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loyal readers! I am back! I have not forgotten about you or this fic! And I thank you for your continuing patience. Life threw another fastball at me, but I am doing well and am back on track with things! I also have a a few other projects that had snatched away my attention. But still working on this one. And hey, this little maybe-love-story is coming close to it's end. Just a few more chapters to go! Thanks for sticking with me, my lovely readers. ♡  
> And as always, a huge thank you to my dear friend, impromptu hairdresser, and lovely beta-reader: slightlyfrumiousbandersnatch.

 

“Prompto…? Need to slow down… Not sure if I…”

Prompto turned as the quiet sound of Ignis’ voice slipped through the air, nearly lost in the thick, stifling heat. The smile on his face fell when he saw Ignis stumble, his long legs beginning to fold underneath him.

“Ignis!” Prompto's cry echoed through the narrow canyon as he threw himself forward, arms outstretched. Ignis slumped against his chest, the dead weight dropping Prompto to the ground. He winced. A close call. His knees were going to have some serious bruises, but at least Iggy hadn't cracked his head on the rocky ground. 

“Iggy? Hey there, buddy? You okay?” Prompto asked, peering down at his companion. His heart beat faster with every passing second.

Ignis wasn’t responding.  

“Shit.” Prompto eased him down onto the ground, hands shaking, fingers bunching into the purple fabric of Ignis’ shirt. He sucked in a deep breath. He needed to stay calm, to remember what Gladio had told him. All of that first aid training. They’d gone through this. He had this. He had this. 

“Umm. Okay. Okay… Pulse, first,” he murmured, pressing two fingers to Iggy’s throat, just below his jaw. Fast, but a lot better than nothing. He felt warm, too. Warmer than normal. And--

Prompto froze, eyes widening. He–he wasn’t breathing. The shaking spread from his hands, wracking his whole body as the rest of the world narrowed down to that single, terrible fact.

Ignis wasn’t breathing.

No.  _ No. _ He shook his head, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He had to get a hold of himself, to calm down and remember what he had to do. If he didn’t… He looked at Ignis and swallowed.

Not an option. He’d figure this out. 

First… First he needed to find out  _ why _ Iggy wasn’t breathing. Carefully, he tilted Ignis’ head back, trying to keep his hands steady. 

“Alright, here goes. Sorry I gotta do this. And sorry I can’t wash my hands or anything...” Pushing aside his hesitance, Prompto pinched the corners of Ignis’ jaw, just below his cheekbones. He coaxed Ignis’ mouth open and slipped his fingers in toward his throat. Definitely something there…  _ Sorry, Iggy. _ He reached just a little deeper, swiping whatever it was and pulling it free.

He stared at his fingers in shock as Ignis reacted instantly, gasping and coughing, his whole body convulsing with the effort. And still, Prompto could only stare at his hand.

Flower petals. Shades of bright blue-purple and pale periwinkle. Clumped and wet and sticking to his fingers. Those had–those had been in his  _ throat _ . Delphinium flowers. Like the ones he had seen sitting on the table yesterday, during breakfast.

“How in the hell?” Prompto exclaimed. And when he looked down, there were more. Scattering across Ignis’ chest as he coughed, falling to lay next to his head like some strange, vibrant blue halo. 

“How in the actual hell!?” 

He was coughing them up. Handfuls of them. Ignis was coughing up  _ flower petals. _

“Has this… Has this been going on the whole time!?” Prompto squeezed his eyes shut as he threw the flowers to the ground. He didn't want to be near the stupid things. “Dammit, Iggy! All this time that you’ve been sick? When the hell were you planning on telling us!?” He glared at Ignis for a few seconds before shaking his head, releasing a heavy sigh.

What good was he doing, yelling like that? Not like Iggy could respond. He needed to stay calm, needed to get Iggy somewhere safe where they could take care of this and get him back on his feet. Then he could yell at him.

_ But… How? _ How were they going to take care of this? What was even going on? A strained whine rose from his throat as the reality of the situation sunk in. Iggy was unconscious, possibly in grave danger from some crazy condition that he’d been hiding for who knew  _ how long _ , and they were trapped in this oven of a canyon with a gigantic grumpy god.

“ _ Focus! _ ” he growled to himself, clenching his fists at his sides. “Gotta focus. Panic later.”

That’s what Iggy did for them. He focused through the scary stuff and the uncertainty and pulled them all through with a plan or a potion or a few words of wisdom and encouragement. 

And how many times had Iggy specifically come to  _ his _ aid? Sprinting into the thick of battle to drag him to safety whenever he was injured, pulling him from the brink with a curative? Now it was time to return the favor. He could do this. He  _ had  _ to do this.

The coughing had mostly stopped, along with the flood of petals, leaving Ignis pale and gasping on the dusty ground. But nothing more than that. Good. That was good. Iggy was still unconscious, but he was breathing and seemed to have coughed up the worst of it. Now he just needed a little damage control.

Squeezing his eyes shut in concentration, Prompto flung his hand out, summoning an antidote with a sharp crystalline shatter. Those petals were poisonous, and Iggy didn’t need his system weakened even more trying to deal with  _ that _ . He cracked the bottle against Ignis’ chest, biting his lip as the glow of magic flared and then faded. He flung his hand out again, summoning a potion this time. Just to be safe. 

“Hope that helps,” he murmured, leaning closer as he looked Ignis up and down. He did seem a little less pale. Prompto reached out, wiping the sweat from Ignis’ brow.

“Ah!” he yanked his hand away, dread flooding through him. “I-Iggy… you’re burning up. Like,  _ really _ bad.” More than from the sun and the heat. Felt like he had a fever. A bad one. “Okay. So now I just gotta get your temperature down. Just take things one step at a time,” he said, taking another deep breath. Things were going okay. He was getting Iggy stabilized. Slowly but surely.

Scooting closer, he scooped up one of Iggy's hands, snapping the button on his glove. Those probably weren’t doing him any favors in lowering his temperature. He hesitated before slipping it off, looking down at Ignis’ hand, resting limp in his own. Something about it felt forbidden. He hardly ever saw Iggy with his gloves off. Only when he was cooking, or sleeping. If that. How many times had he seen Iggy asleep in his camp chair, glasses and gloves still on with a cooking magazine left open on his lap?

Iggy's hand was… It was so  _ soft _ . A few calluses here and there, but… dang. Prompto shivered, wondering just how soft the back of Iggy's hand would feel pressed against his lips. Gods, the thought made him ache. He needed to stop that train of thought and get back on track.

“Sorry, Iggy,” he said with a sigh, trying not to stare as he peeled off the other glove. “I’ll keep them safe. I promise.” He dismissed them to his own area of the Armiger. “Not like I could get into your section, anyway. Not without Noct.”

Just the gloves wouldn't be enough, though. He reached out a tentative hand and paused just below the collar of Iggy’s shirt, fingers resting on the first button. If removing his gloves felt forbidden, then this was a total death sentence. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to!” Prompto squeaked, popping one of the buttons. He half expected Ignis to sit up and demand to know what the bloody hell he thought he was doing.

“You’re just really hot and I–No! No! Not like that!” Prompto shook his head hard, cheeks flushing. “I–I mean… yeah, but I… I figured that removing… s-some extra clothing would… maybe help?” 

Another button. He dug his teeth into his lip, trying not to heat up too much himself. But with every button unfastened, he revealed more and more of that defined, powerful chest. He’d seen the flex and stretch of lean muscle when Iggy fought and practiced with Noct, but only through the snug-fitting fabric of his clothes. Never bared. And never up close. 

Gods help him, Ignis was totally built like a gymnast.

“Focus! Focus! Focus!” he growled, digging his nails into his palms as he shook his head. Iggy was sick, and here he was gawking at his pecs.  _ Later, _ he told himself, not bothering to reason exactly how he expected that to play out. Whatever worked.

He undid the last button, pulling the shirt away so that it hung loose around Iggy’s shoulders. There. He could compromise. Give Iggy a little decency. Only… Prompto could still feel the heat rising from him. 

He hummed in frustration, tapping his boot against the ground in a rapid, uneven rhythm. What would Iggy do if he were in a situation like this? He would probably come up with some crazy creative plan like it was nothing. Hell, the guy could whip up just about any recipe with their limited camp gear and a few pans. And half the time, he didn't even need that. Prompto had watched Iggy heat or chill dishes with just a magic flask. 

His eyes widened as he stared down at Ignis. 

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He flung out his hand to reach into the Armiger. In seconds, a black sphere appeared, crossed with a stripe of glowing light blue. A low-potency blizzard flask. He shivered as the cold seeped through the palm of his glove, frosting his fingertips. Low-potency, but the bad boy still packed a pretty chilly punch. 

He just needed to wrap it in something. Not like he could sit there all day, pressing the thing against Iggy’s head. Tugging the bandana from his bicep, he wound the worn black fabric around the blizzard flask and waited until the folds began to gather frost. A makeshift cooling cloth.

“There we go,” he murmured, tongue poking out as he leaned forward to fasten the bandana above Iggy’s sweat-slicked brow. “Lookin’  _ cool _ , Iggster!” he chirped with a wink. He stared at his unresponsive companion for a moment before shaking his head. “Yep. That was bad. Never mind.” 

He tapped a finger against his lips, humming in thought as he kicked the heel of his boot against the ground. He had Iggy as stable as he was going to get; he should probably touch base with Noct and Gladio. They had no idea that Iggy had collapsed and could probably do a better job at helping him. He just had to find out where they were. And then get Iggy there. Somehow.

He glanced back toward Ignis. That lengthy frame was all lean muscle. He’d seen it himself. Gods, had he seen it… And Iggy was pretty tall. Transport wasn’t going to be easy. Possible, but not easy. Maybe the guys would have an idea on that, too.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers tapping with practiced speed to dial Noct. Miracle that the number wasn’t worn into his touchscreen by now. 

He paced while it rang, eyes falling back on Ignis for a second. He really didn't know what he was going to do if Iggy stopped breathing again. _I mean, clear his airway. Obviously. But…_ It was more than that. How could he handle seeing his friend suffocate? _He’s more to you than that,_ _though, isn't he_? his treacherous mind whispered. And that just made it even worse. What if he failed? What would he do if… if–?

Finally, Noct picked up, cutting off  his frantic thoughts with a staticky greeting.

“Yea-? -rom? What’s -p?”

“Woah, dude. You going through a tunnel? I can barely hear you over the fuzz.”

“No? -st be the Mete-r. Caus-ng -terference.”

“Huh. Great,” Prompto mumbled with a grimace. Hopefully their phones rode it out until they worked out a plan. “Well, I kinda have some bad news.”

A staticky groan from Noct. “No.”

“Sorry, dude. But… I-Iggy… He passed out. I think it's the heat.” He glanced back to his fallen friend, eyes catching on the flower petals next to his head. “Or… something. Anyway, he’s burning up and he can’t breathe and Noct, I–I don’t know what to do,” he finally whimpered.

“-mpto?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Stay -alm. You got -his, okay? Try to -et down here. We got- go. Imperial- dropping in.”

A quiet rhythmic beep sounded as Noct hung up. Prompto looked down at the  _ call ended _ screen with a sigh. “I’ll try my best,” he said quietly, stuffing the phone back into his pocket.

He turned back to Ignis, squaring his shoulders. “All right, buddy. Gonna get you back to Noct, and then hopefully we can get outta here. My turn to take care of you for a change!” If only he felt as confident as he sounded. 

He crouched down, trying to remember Gladio's instructions on moving an injured comrade to safety. 

Before anything else, though… Prompto carefully slipped Iggy’s glasses from his nose, folding them before dismissing them to the Armiger. “Could be a bit of a bumpy hike. Promise I’ll keep ‘em safe,” he said softly. “Right next to your gloves.” 

He paused, casting his gaze over Ignis. He looked so...  _ small _ without his jacket to fill out his silhouette. And laying on the ground like that… It felt strange, like he was looking at someone else. Someone vulnerable and fragile. Not at all like the Ignis he knew. Ignis… Sometimes it was hard to believe, but the truth was right there. Ignis wasn’t invincible. 

His thoughts stirred the fear simmering deep down in his stomach. He needed to keep pushing himself onward, or he risked falling into another paralyzing bout of anxiety.

“Alright. Here goes… all that I got,” he mumbled with a dry laugh, working his arms carefully under Ignis, propping him up. Bit by slow, painstaking bit, Prompto maneuvered him into a fireman’s carry. 

_ Its okay. He's not too heavy. Nope, not heavy at all. Nothing like my auto-crossbow or my bio-blaster or any of the other heavy stuff I haul around on a daily basis. Only… _

“Iggy, why are your legs so long!?” Prompto groaned, shifting him up higher. They kept bumping against his own. By the time he got back to the others, he was going to have so many new bruises. And to make matters worse, the ground kept shuddering. The echoed rumbles and crackles of stone accompanied by a guttural roaring. Noct must be having his chat with Titan. 

“Good luck, buddy,” Prompto murmured, casting a glance off in the direction of the noise.

Another hard quake sent him stumbling, his legs straining to hold up both himself and Ignis. By some miracle, he managed to stay on his feet, shuffling slowly forward over the uneven terrain.

Sucking in a hot, dusty breath, Prompto trudged onward, stopping only to make sure that Iggy was still breathing, and to take a quick sip of water from one of the bottles that Ignis insisted they all stash in the Armiger.

“Good thinking, Iggy,” he murmured, shifting his companion higher on his shoulder as he started to slip.

It felt like hours of wandering, hours of puffing his way along, maneuvering over boulders and slipping through narrow passages. All the while, the quakes grew stronger. Titan’s guttural growls grew louder too. He had to be getting close, now.

Then, at last, he heard the cries of Noctis and Gladio up ahead. Hope bloomed in his chest, spreading renewed strength to his limbs as he picked up his pace. He rounded a canyon wall, eyes growing wide as he took in the scene.

Titan was… He was a heck of a lot more massive up close. Noct looked like a tiny speck, warping around the massive Astral in bursts of blue light, trying to land a hit. From what Prompto could see, he wasn't doing much damage. 

On the ground, Gladio cleaved through the ranks of Magitek troopers as they tried to subdue both the Prince and the god. Even with the amount that he too down, though, he was still outnumbered.

“Looks like we all got our hands full,” Prompto said with a sigh. He should be out there helping the guys. He wasn't sure how good his bullets were against a giant rock god, but they definitely tore through the metal armor of the MTs like no one’s business.

He shifted from one leg to the other, his nervous fidgeting somewhat subdued by the extra weight across his shoulders. He wanted to help. But Iggy… He couldn’t just plop him behind a rock and hope for the best.

Gladio swore, loud enough to be heard above the commotion. Prompto’s eyes widened as he saw the Shield take a hit from one of the MTs. It didn’t look too serious from where he was standing. Gladio was still fighting, after all.

“But it wouldn’t have happened if you were watching his back,” Prompto growled to himself. He shook his head, teeth gritted. “Alright! That’s it!”

He gently slid Iggy from his shoulders, placing him back into the recovery position. He wasn’t about to leave Gladio and Noct without a little cover, but he definitely wasn’t going to leave Ignis unguarded, either. 

“Time for a little multitasking,” he murmured, summoning his gun to his hand. A comfortable, reassuring weight. The polished surface of his Mythril pistol glinted in the harsh sunlight as he dropped to one knee, positioning himself next to Ignis.  “Eyes, don’t fail me now!” he cried, squinting as he took aim.

He was a little too far from the target for his liking, but his shot hit home all the same, blasting the helmet and mask off an MT that had been coming up behind Gladio. It altered its course, turning its attention in Prompto’s direction. Red light glinted from the two eye-like holes set into its face, trained directly on him as it shuffled forward. Creepy as the thing’s ruined face looked, it was nothing compared to the nasty looking serrated blade it dragged with it.

Prompto forced his hands to hold steady, tongue poking out from between his teeth after he fired shot after shot, heart starting to race as the MT slowly advanced.

_ No, no, no, go away! If it gets too close… _ Then Iggy would be in serious danger. He could just scrape by in close combat, but not when he had to keep an eye on an unresponsive friend. And not against a foe capable of self-destruction. He couldn’t let it get within melee range. 

With a wild yell, he summoned his second pistol and unleashed a spray of bullets. Bits of armor and metal flew from the soldier, blasted off under the rain of bullets. His arms strained against the recoil, sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. He didn't let up. He couldn't. Not until the damned thing fell. He wasn't letting it near them. Not near Iggy. 

Finally, the bullets tore off its chest armor, several piercing its Magitek core. The MT fell, daemonic essence leaking out and evaporating in the light with a hushed screech. A beautiful sight. Kind of. Creepy as hell, but at the moment, the thing was dead and that was beautiful. 

Prompto breathed a sigh of relief, aching arms dropping to his sides.  _ Speaking of breathing… _ He inched over to Ignis, doing a quick check-over. Still good. But his bandana cooling cloth had warmed too much to be any use. 

“A little recharge should do the trick.” He reached into the Armiger again, snatching out another blizzard flask. 

It was at that moment that Noctis finally noticed their return. Prompto looked up just in time to see Noct, eyes widening as he saw his friends on the ground. But the Prince didn't look like he was going to dwell on their situation. Instead, he turned away with a resolute nod, shouting to Gladio. 

Prompto watched as they both pushed toward Titan, just as the giant god pulled back for another devastating blow. He tensed, leaning forward as if he could stop them from being smashed. What was Noct doing? He should be warping! Running  _ away _ ! Not  _ toward _ Titan. 

He nearly shouted Noct’s name in despair, but a burst of light drew his attention. In his friend’s hands, the bright blue of two additional blizzard flasks glowed. Only these ones looked a lot more potent than the one he was holding. He bit his lip, fists curling at his sides. He wasn't sure if even a powered up spell would have much effect on the giant.

He stood, ready to scream at them to get out of the way as Titan’s hand swung toward them. The words died in his throat as the world erupted into howling, frigid wind, almost strong enough to knock him off his feet. A thick swirl of snow obscured his vision, leaving him clueless to the fate of his friends. He and Iggy were on their own until the spell was spent. He dropped down to crouch over Ignis, shielding his own face and protecting his friend from the flurry of snow and ice. 

And then,  _ roaring _ . Rising above the sound of wind. It rumbled through the stone below him, shaking into his bones and his very soul until he trembled with the sheer force of it. 

When it finally subsided and he could open his eyes, Titan was gone. The only trace left behind was a golden shimmer around Noctis as he stood in the middle of the stone-scarred battleground. Titan’s blessing.

“You did it...” Prompto murmured, still shivering as he stared at his best friend in awe. Not that Noct could hear him from so far away. Pumping a fist, he called out. “Hell  _ yeah _ , man! You did it!”

They’d fought a god. And  _ won _ . 

Noct trotted over, hair sweaty and disheveled, still out of breath. He gave Prompto a nod, his gaze immediately shifting to Ignis. He opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find any words. A dark shadow of worry flickered in his eyes.

“What happened?” he finally asked, nodding to his unconscious Advisor. And his oldest friend, Prompto reminded himself. Noct was probably just as, if not even more shaken by this.

Prompto's answer was interrupted as Gladio jogged over.

“Hey. What's goin’ on here?” he asked, already dropping to a crouch next to Ignis.

Prompto looked from Gladio to Noct. Probably best that they both heard everything at the same time.

“Here. Take a look,” he instructed, stepping aside to give Gladio some room. He stared down at his boots, speaking past the lump in his throat. “He’s–He’s not doing too good. He stopped breathing and–I tried to remember all of that first aid stuff that you taught me and I swear, if I screwed anything up–"

“Hey,” Gladio interrupted, resting a firm hand on Prompto's shoulder, holding him in that steady amber gaze. “Enough of that. You got him here in one piece and that's what matters. You did good, kid.”

Prompto chewed a thumbnail, already short and ragged from previous attentions. 

“Yeah, but… Guys. I… kinda found out why he’s been coughing so much.”

As if on cue, Ignis erupted into a coughing fit, shifting in a futile attempt to curl around his ribs. No petals, though; not from what Prompto could see. He couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing. Would the guys even believe him if he told them what he’d witnessed?

He watched as Gladio guided Ignis back into his original position, not needing much strength despite Iggy’s feeble attempt at resistance.

“Whoa buddy, I know it hurts, but you’ll breathe easier this way,” Gladio murmured.

Prompto swallowed and stared down at Ignis, running his fingers over his ragged thumbnail. Gladio was busy checking Iggy over, but Noctis was watching him, waiting for an answer. No backing down, now.

Prompto ran a hand over the back of his neck, giving a quiet, humorless chuckle. Gods, they were definitely not going to believe him… Not until they saw it for themselves. Which… It would happen eventually, he guessed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a single word, a deep shudder rumbled through the entirety of the canyon. 

“Not again!” he whined, staring at the cracks forming between his boots. He took a few slow, fearful steps back, gaze darting to Noctis. “I thought we won!” 

Noct’s reply was drowned out by another quake, ancient stone shifting and cracking together until it split entirely. And flowing underneath: rivers of furious red magma. The temperature spiked immediately, rising from what was already pretty darned toasty.

“Yeah, well, Titan must be a sore loser!” Gladio growled, already heaving Ignis over his shoulders. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” 

“Right behind ya!” Noct called, jogging after his Shield.

Prompto followed after, not questioning how they expected to escape. They could go back the way he went with Iggy, but some parts of the path got way too narrow to fit Gladio. Aside from that, he wasn't sure there were many other options.  _ Astrals who aren't Titan, please let us get out of here in one piece... _

Noctis seemed to waver in front of him, the air shimmering with heat. He gasped as he gave chase, glad for all of those long years spent running in the Summer. But still, it was getting hard to breathe. His chest grew even tighter thinking of how difficult it must be for Iggy.

He looked farther ahead, trying to focus on Gladio. Would he notice if Iggy stopped breathing? For a moment, he wished that Gladio would let him carry Ignis instead. A flicker of more than just concern ran through him. Prompto shook his head, pushing away the feeling as best as he could. Gladio was much better at hauling people to safety. He had the size and strength for it. And since he was taller, Iggy’s legs didn’t bump against his. 

Prompto looked away, frowning. With how short he was, he’d have to stand on his toes just to kiss Iggy…

A low humming sound drifted from overhead, drawing his attention. Distraction from that little thought was nice and all, but… His steps slowed as his eyes fell on the far too familiar, clunky shape of an Imperial airship. 

“Damn it! Not more… Not right now,  _ please _ …” Prompto hissed under his breath. Dread rose in his stomach as the ship hovered lower, emitting a loud hiss as the back hatch lowered. Noctis and Gladio slowed, too, both staring upwards with matching scowls.

“Hellooo! Fancy meeting you here!”

The voice rang from just inside the ship. Familiar. Unmistakable. The hatch fully opened to reveal not a troop of Magitek soldiers, but a single man. Ardyn.

Prompto drew closer to Noct and Gladio, unease prickling under his skin. 

“What the hell’s  _ he  _ doing here?” Noctis growled. 

“What the hell is he doing in an Imperial airship?” Prompto added, staring up at the craft with a frown. The thing looked more ominous than usual, hovering just overhead. 

“Nothing good,” Gladio grumbled.

Ardyn strode out from the shadows of the ship, standing just at the edge with a smug smirk.

“It only just occurred to me… I neglected to share my full name,” Ardyn called. Cocking his head, his grin curled at the edges. “ _ Izunia _ . Ardyn Izunia.”

Prompto furrowed his brow, going through the list of names that he’d heard around the Citadel. Not that he knew too many… But still, this one wasn't ringing any bells. 

“The-- Chancellor of Niflheim?” Noctis mumbled, shaking his head. When he glared back up at the ship, his eyes glinted several degrees colder.

“At your service!” Ardyn shouted, spreading his arms in a grand gesture. “And more importantly,  to your aid!”

Prompto groaned, shifting from foot to foot. “Great,” he muttered. “Another ride with Ardyn. Who just  _ happens _ to be with the Empire. Hanging out with a leader of the nation trying to kill you. Cuz that’s how I want to spend my day.”

Behind them, the ground erupted with a plume of lava. Sooner or later, they were going to run out of safe places to  _ stand _ . They might already be out of escape routes.

“I can guarantee all of you safe passage. Unless you wish to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?” Ardyn prodded.

“We don’t have a choice,” Gladio argued, jerking his chin toward Ignis. “We’re already pushing our luck with this heat.”

Noctis’ gaze flicked from the open door of the airship to his advisor. Finally, he stepped forward with a nod. “Bring it a little lower,” he called, not even attempting to sound polite. But if his tone bothered Ardyn, the man didn't show it. 

“All aboard, then,” he announced, his grin never faltering.

 

* * *

 

“Out of the fire and into enemy custody…” Prompto mumbled, staring up at the dull metal interior of the airship. He sat cross-legged, slumped against the inner wall a few feet from Noct. Nearby, Gladio remained on his feet, standing between them and Ardyn.

Prompto heaved a sigh, looking around for some sort of distraction. Nothing but boring, plain metal walls. Pretty empty for an Imperial war ship. On the bright side, the thing wasn’t packed with MTs. There was always that. And after the heat back at the Disc, the cool metal floors felt pretty nice. He frowned, shifting under the weight against his shins. Not that he could feel  _ too _ comfortable. 

Not with Iggy’s head resting in his lap. 

_ So he doesn’t bang his head against the floor if we hit some turbulence.  _ Chin tilted up, that gorgeous face in clear view.  _ To help him breathe easier _ . That’s what Gladio had said as he deposited Ignis on the floor, leaving him in Prompto’s care.

It was torture.

But Gladio insisted that he needed to stand guard, just in case Ardyn tried anything funny. And when Prompto turned his pleading gaze to Noct, the Prince had simply backed away, stating that his first aid training was way too spotty. He couldn't really blame Noct for being nervous. Ignis was supposed to take care of  _ him _ , after all. Not the other way around.

So here he was, counting the minutes in an Imperial airship, trying not to stare at Iggy’s perfect cheekbones or the soft curves of his lips or the adorable little beauty marks spread across his face. He could always pass the time counting them, he guessed. He’d never realized there were so many. It made sense, though. Iggy was definitely one beautiful guy.

If only he would wake up... He was still breathing, though. At least there was that. The silence was broken by the occasional cough, but still no flowers. 

Prompto sighed, rubbing an arm across his eyes. Maybe… he’d been seeing things back at the Disc? Hallucinations from the heat? But there had been so many petals, shades ranging from ghostly pale to vibrant blue. He could picture them so clearly. No, they were real. He knew they were. 

He frowned, fingers tapping against the metal floor in an uneven rhythm. He would have to tell Noct and Gladio sooner or later. He looked over toward the back hatch where Ardyn hovered, watching them with an overly uninterested air. His fingers tapped harder, faster, his frown deepening as he quickly looked away. Yeah, he was definitely going to wait for a better moment to break the news to the guys. And whether they believed him…

A faint pressure against his hand, unsteady and warm, stopped his tapping. Prompto’s eyes widened as he looked down to see long, elegant fingers wrapped loose around his own.

Ignis was holding his hand.

“Iggy?” he whispered, his heart leaping. He tilted his head down, trying to get a better look at his companion. But Ignis’ eyes were still closed. He still wasn’t awake.

Prompto’s shoulders slumped, his heart sinking. He swallowed hard and looked back toward his hand, his fingers loosely encircled. On the bright side, Iggy couldn’t feel him sweating if he was still unconscious. But… what was this? Was Iggy even aware of it? 

Prompto shook his head, tearing his eyes away. Couldn’t be. Not after all that they had talked about. Iggy was just seeking comfort. Probably would have done the same if it were Gladio or Noct sitting next to him. He – He was probably scared. Something in Prompto’s chest felt like it was twisting. He tilted his wrist, hand sliding into a better fit. He didn’t mean to, but his own fingers had already tightened against Iggy’s by the time he noticed what he was doing. Now, he could only stare at their firmly linked hands, his heart in his throat at how warm it felt. How right. 

That look that Iggy gave him while they shook hands… Back at the Disc. It flickered through Prompto's mind. Iggy had looked like he was trying to say more. More than a quiet acceptance of being just friends. So many different things. He had chalked it up to his own imagination, and that still might be the case. But now he wondered… Had he seen a touch of sorrow there? Of fear?

Ignis coughed again, a quiet whimper slipping out with it. For a moment, Prompto was sure that he saw a sliver of green between closed eyelids.

“Come on, Iggs. It’s not like you to sleep in.” He shook his finger, adopting a scolding tone. Anything to cover the nervousness. 

Another cough. Another flash of green.

Prompto bit his lip, leaning forward. “You can do it, Iggy,” he whispered. “Come on. Up and at ‘em.” Maybe hearing his voice would help. Give Iggy something to latch onto. 

Without thinking, Prompto reached out with his other hand, brushing Ignis’ damp bangs from his brow. Just a quick, simple movement. Until he reached out again, combing his fingers through Ignis’ damp bangs. And again, the movement becoming repetitive, comfort for the both of them.

“You’ll be okay,” he cooed, managing to sound more confident than he felt. “We’ll figure this out, buddy. You’re gonna be fine.”

And then, Iggy’s eyes slid open. He stared up at Prompto, gaze foggy and unfocused. It sent a chill through him, seeing Iggy look like that. He had only ever seen that gaze sharp and bright, laser-focused on the task at hand. And often several others at the same time.

Right now, it was like Iggy was looking through him, eyes confused and lips parting as if he wanted to ask a question. His fingers trembled as they tightened around Prompto’s hand. A heated flush swept over his cheeks and then he was coughing again, trying to curl up as the spasms wracked his body.

Prompto tried to hold him still, murmuring quiet, soothing words until the fit subsided. He didn’t hear the rustle of fabric, the sound of someone shuffling closer.

“What the hell?”

He looked up to see Noct staring, mouth hanging open.

“Huh?” Prompto cocked his head, following Noct’s gaze back down to Ignis. He’d finally fallen silent and unconscious again, left shivering in Prompto’s arms. Not that it was much of a relief. 

“Oh.” Prompto swallowed hard, but his heart already felt lodged in his throat.

They spilled down Ignis’ chin, spread across Prompto's lap in a spatter of bright blue. Delphinium petals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm on Tumblr! But I was banned, so you can't see me! Find me on Twitter instead! SunshineAndSnark, username: @and_snark.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, now! Please feel free to pop in and chat with me about FFXV or reading or writing or anything. [ Link ](http://sunshineandsnark27.tumblr.com/)


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